Darkest Hour
by Broke Dujor
Summary: Dany arrives at Dragon Stone and her alliances threaten to crumble. While she yearns to take her throne, obstacles still stand in her way. Unruly Krakens, Proud Lions and, curious of all, Pleading Direwolves proclaiming monsters lay in wake. (Closely follows S7 as a deep dive into the characters minds, with my own concepts integrated, then what I want to/think will happen in S8.)
1. The Eye of Her Birth

AN:

This story takes place in the beginning of season 7. After watching the season Finale I was struck with a story idea.

Summary: Dany has arrived at Dragon Stone and already her alliances are threatening to crumble, fear and need for vengeance the only thing keeping the treaty of the great houses intact. And while she yearns to take her throne once and for all — more obstacles still stand in her way. Unruly Krakens, Proud Lions and curious of all, Pleading Direwolves proclaiming monsters lay in wake. (The timeline will be reimagined and I will be adding many new touches, but the story will follow the season as well.)

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 **One : The Stormborn Dragon Returns to the Eye of Her Birth**

Mother of Dragons

They'd been at sea for months and already Daenerys grasp on the alliances formed between the Tyrells, Greyjoys, and Sands is threatening to slip away from her. The voyage from Meereen to Westeros has been nothing but one argument after another as they visited each other's ships, discussing the future. Countless councils Dany has had to listen to one petty grievance after another and today is proving to be no different.

The Sand Snakes, beautiful bastard women from Dorne, who had risen to power after murdering their Prince, and for the younger girls— their uncle — hate the Greyjoys. Old injustices have not been forgiven, it would seem the kraken people always took a special pleasure when they went out of their way to raid Dornish Ports. Yara, herself, an accused pirate that had caused mischief not even a year passed.

"These foul sea _demons_ ," the eldest daughter, Obara, the only homely Snake — spat, "washed upon our beautiful shores with the cover of night cloaking them like soul suckers, stole our goods, disrespected our house and raped our women! Why should we be forced to fight for their claim? If they aren't strong enough to take their throne for themselves, like we did, what good are they?"

Obaras' sisters nod their heads, identical scowls fixed upon their small lips.

Yara smirks at the hissing snake, her own homely face trying to hide how much the comments bothered her.

"I will not apologize for the lives we led, my people needed to get by somehow, but we are a reformed people now — I've given my word to our Queen we will change our ways — find new trades. And don't for a second think what you did was any more honorable than what we strive to do now. We're killing an uncle just like you, but at least ours can fight back. Where is the honor in killing a crippled? And disrespected your house? Not possible, _Sand_."

Nymeria, the middle and most beautiful Sand shakes her head angrily, "You drowned rats "changing" now does not make up for stolen maiden heads ago! And our bastard blood is twice as honorable as yours, sea cow!"

Both sides start yelling at one another in tandem making the rocking motion of the boat seem intensified to the annoyed Dragon Queen.

In the beginning of their journey, when these annoying squabbles erupted, Dany would cut them off immediately, letting her fiery temper seep into her words like melted snow into cloth — until her trusted hand, Tyrion, a Lannister, though she chose to not hold the family name against him, advised her to let the arguements play out no matter how ear splitting they may be. The scarred man hopeful their bickering allies might let precious words slip in the heat of the moment.

He's yet to be correct, at least in any important way. Nothing of great value has been said and Danys patience is wearing thin. She looks to the witty dwarf now, sitting to her right, a half empty goblet filled with wine clutched in his hand — like always. He seems to be napping at the moment, though. She sneaks a hand under the table and pinches his fleshy knee with her freshly filed nails.

He startles awake with a cry of pain, sloshing dark wine on his trousers and Dany turns back to the table of forced allies, barely smothering a smirk.

Now the Tyrells are fighting with the Sands, Lady Olena, an ancient woman, more brilliant and plotting then all of them put together, is goading Obara as Yara sits back with her arms crossed behind her head and a satisfied smile on her face — like a man that's just finished.

 _Here we all are_ , Dany thought, _powerful individuals, sitting around a grand table, inside a beautiful cabin of a fabulous ship carrying us to my war to claim what was destined to me and I'm forced to listen to children squabble._

"Your Grace," Tyrion whispers next to her ear, the scent of wine wafting towards her rudely, "Do you remember when I advised you to let them find a natural conclusion to these strained meetings?"

Dany allows a slight nod, her eyes not leaving a raving Theon.

"Well, I was a fool, and I recant that statement. It's been two months and they've not let anything but venom and salt and thorns escape with their words. I think it's time for them to see a bit of fire as Dragonstone is but a few hours away. This behavior cannot continue."

The young queen doesn't follow every piece of advise her Hand gives, but when he told her she should show restraint with her temper concerning their "council" meetings — She listened, even though she didn't agree. It just wasn't worth arguing.

That being said Dany finds herself glad he's changed his mind. This lot may hate each other but she hates all of them more. Well, hate might be a strong word but shes definitely losing sight of why any of them needs to be in the room when plans are being made instead of just acting as foot soldiers.

 _Except for Olena. Oh, no, she needs to be kept close at all times. That old woman could have all of us in chains or graves if the mood struck her._

Tyrion sits back in his chair, refilling his goblet and Dany contemplates how to proceed, how much fire she wants to spew.

When Tyene Sand unsheathes a dagger prompting every other weapon to become naked to the soft glow of the hearth behind the Khaleesi, it becomes clear to Dany they must understand who is in charge and to do so they need to feel the heat.

She stands quickly knocking her chair down behind her, steals the goblet of wine from Tyrions small, fat hand and throws it into the fire, causing a gust of refreshing flames to billow towards her.

With her back still to them, only Missandei, straightening from her crouch after having to shield herself from the flame, can see her queens face. Dany had forgotten she had been standing there. _I'll have to remember to apologize and be more careful of my friend in the future._

The cabin is silent of bickering idiots now, the prickle and snap of the heightened flame an unperverted symphony to Danys ears.

"Nobody better be holding naked steel anymore." She orders softly, speaking for the first time since this useless meeting had started. _But now that I am talking — I'll make myself clear. They'll know where I stand on future childish antics now that my Hand has advised my interference._

The sound of metal being shelved sounds pleasing as it joins the flames, sending a shiver down Danys spine.

She still doesn't turn or raise her voice. _If they're wise, they'll hear the inferno anyway._

"For the past two months I've suffered through meetings where you unruly lot wasted my time fueling your egos against one another. Arguing who has more honor, who started which feuds, which family name is more useful to me, failing to see I've become tired of you all."

In a satisfying coincidence the shiver inducing songs of her children can be heard perfectly as they fly toward the ships, but still a ways away. As they've grown their mothers connection to them has as well. They know when she needs them and out of the love in their souls for her — they come.

Daenerys faces her audience, all of which are paled by her soft ire. Even a usually self-satisfied Olena.

"I want to remind you of a few things. I command the largest army in Westeros, not including a single one of your soldiers. By my side — stand loyally, two of the greatest minds to counsel me through my reign," She lifts her hands to either side of her to Tyrion and Varys, "and three very large dragons. I don't say this now to hear myself speak but to make clear my point. I want us to be allies. This is what I _want_. Not what I _need_. Decide for yourselves if I need you and adjust your behavior accordingly."

"Of course, Your Grace, we are shamed to have offended." Elleria Sand, whom Dany had taken to calling the Snake Mother, is the first to grovel.

Everyone else with the exception of Olena are quick to follow.

"Well, now that we are all on the same page," Tyrion quips, snatching another goblet and the wine decanter, "Wait . . . what was this meeting even about?"

"Our assignments. We were brought here to discuss our plan of action." Obara reminds.

Yara rolls her eyes and heaves her body up to lean on the table.

"There's little to discuss. If you want the Iron Throne, take it! We have an army, a fleet and three dragons. Use them! We should hit kings landing now, _with everything we've got_."

Tyrion hums disapprovingly.

"If we turn the dragons loose, tens of thousands will die in the firestorms."

The Snake Mother snorts in an unladylike manor. "It's called _war_. If you don't have the stomach for it, scurry back into hiding, Imp.

"Yes, I know how you wage war. We don't poison little girls here, as foreign as that concept might sound to you."

"I regret nothing, of course with the exception that Oberyn died fighting for you!"

"That's enough," Dany insists, strictly, reclaiming the chair Grey Worm righted for her. "We've just had this discussion on petty arguments." She turns to Elleria and focuses solely on her.

"Disrespect to my hand is Equal to disrespect to me."

Elleria doesn't say anything more, but her expression remains just as bitter.

She speaks to the whole room again.

"I am not here to be queen of the ashes. I'm retaking my fathers throne because I want to help the people, how do you expect me to do that after I've murdered them all?"

"That's nice to hear," Olena interjects. "My granddaughter held the same kindness in her heart for the people. She was gentle and loved, the most loved queen that has ever lived probably—"

 _Not likely_ , Dany thinks to herself, remebering stories of the many beloved Targaryen Queens.

"— And what is left of her? _Ashes_. Commoners, nobles, whoever — won't obey you if they don't fear you."

Dany stares deep into the old woman's unflinching gaze.

"I have brought Dragons back into the world and used them to conquer already. They fear me. _Trust me_."

Olena looks down, unable to deny the young Targaryens words.

Dany searches the room.

"I will not attack kings landing. _We will not attack Kings Landing_."

"How do you mean to take the Iron throne, then? By asking?" Olenas gaze turns mocking. "Begging, mayhaps?"

Dany chooses to ignore the jab and keep focus on the task at hand.

"We will lay siege to the capital on all sides. Cersei will have the Iron Throne, for now, but no food for her army or the people.

Tyrion takes a gulp of his wine before explaining the rest of his plan.

"But we won't use the Dothraki or the Unsullied. Cersei is a master manipulator, she will try to appeal to the lords loyalty, their love for their country. If we besiege the city with foreigners, we will prove her point. Our armies need to be Westerosi.

Elleria chimes in, not seeming pleased with were the Dwarf is going with his speech.

"And I suppose we're providing the Westerosi?"

"Yes. Lady Greyjoy will escort you home to Sun Spear. And the Iron Fleet will ferry the Dornish army back up to Kings Landing. The Dornish will lay siege to the capital alongside the Tyrells army. Two great kingdoms united against Cersei.

"So," Lady Olena draws out, "your master plan is to use our armies. Pray tell, why did you bother to bring your own?"

Tyrion speaks into his cup. "The Unsullied will have another objective. For decades house Lannister has been the true power of Westeros. And the seat of that power is Casterly Rock." Tyrion looks to Grey Worm, the proud soldier listening intently so as not to miss a word. "The Unsullied will sail for the rock and take it."

A refreshing silence takes a hold of the room, a silence Dany is sorry to interrupt.

"Do I have your support?"

Yara is the first to comply, even with a sneer thrown over at the Sands, the next to voice their loyalty. Lady Olena nods softly once, a deep thought etched in her eyes.

"May I speak with you in private, Your Grace?"

Dany eyes the Tyrell Matriarch a moment before nodding, actively dismissing everyone from the room. She had planned to see them off, now that they will all be going their separate ways, but had no will to deny Lady Olena her undivided attention.

Even after everyone has left they just continue to stare at one another from across the long table. The old woman's stern gaze makes Dany feel young and inexperienced. She's conquered three ancient cities and shaped them to her will and yet this woman makes her feel like a child again.

"I realize you're here out of hatred for Cersei and not love for me , but I promise you, she will pay for what she's done. And we will bring peace back to Westeros.

"Do you think that's what we had with your father? Or his father? Or his? No. Peace never lasts, my dear. Will you take take a bit of advice from an old woman?"

Dany nods, knowing its all she can do.

Lady Olena leans forward. "He's a clever man, your hand. I've known a great deal of clever men. I've outlived them all. You know why?"

Dany doesn't move, already knowing the words about to come out of her mouth.

"I ignored them."

Lady Olena leans further still.

"The lords of Westeros are sheep. Are you a sheep?"

"I am a _dragon_."

Olena nods aggressively.

" _Be_ _a dragon_."

Dany exits the cabin with much to think about. When on the deck of the Tyrell ship, a convenience she afforded Lady Olena, to save her old bones from having to go through the trouble of boarding another ship, She breathes in the fresh sea air, ignoring the bowing Tyrell soldiers as she makes her way to her entourage ready to step into the transport raft.

"That went better than I expected," Tyrion says moodily, "although I would have taken less offense if you'd thrown me into the fire instead of my wine."

Dany does find his comment funny but her mind is too jumbled to respond.

"Missandei, are you alright?" Dany asks as her friend settles into the raft, Greyworm holding onto her hand a beat longer than he did anyone else's.

"Yes, Your Grace, I was just startled is all." Dany can tell her friend is down playing how the flame effected her but by the way Missandei grasps her hand discreetly — she knows she's forgiven. Dany still vows to herself she'll find a way to make up for what she did.

Greyworm and another unsullied soldier begin rowing them back to their ship, the largest of them all and being rounded by three playful dragons. The sight of them always takes everyone's breath away.

 _I dreamt of them just like this when they were stone. Large and free and beautiful. I made that dream a reality and now I'm rewarded every day with the godly sight of them soaring strong._

"Does the sight of them ever tire?" Tyrion asks dreamily.

No one replies because the answer is obvious. They fly around Danys ship long enough for her to board then back track, flying further away from their destination.

"Where are they going?" Tyrion asks.

Danys looks down at him and smiles kindly. "They love the sea, they'll take full advantage of the time they have to play in it. Don't worry my friend, they'll know if I need them."

A few hours later, as the sun starts to set — Dragonstone appears, taking Danys breath away.

"Welcome home, Your Grace," Varys whispers, by her side.

 _Home. Home of my birth, maybe. But not where I belong. No, home lies further still._

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AN: Please review!


	2. The Cloaked Woman

AN: So I finished this chapter waaaaaay earlier than expected and I have a couple more written out almost ready to go. thank you to the few that reviewed, please please review so I know you guys liking the story (or not speak your minds) and want me to continue. I own nothing.

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 **Two: The Cloaked Woman**

King in the North

"No need to be careful," Jon Snow calls out to the men hacking away at their only chance of survival, "no matter how small it crumbles, forging it will be easy, but make sure to waste none, we need all we can possibly carry back to Winterfell."

A loud round of "yes, Your Grace," sounds, then someone starts singing a working song, encouraging everyone to join in, to pass the time.

Jon almost asks them who they're calling 'Grace', not yet acclimated to his new title, but catches himself before he could do more than jerk in surprise.

He looks around, surrounded by his men, each hard at work mining dragon glass, now priceless to the survival of humanity. Men that not too long ago, turned their backs on him in his greatest hour of need.

They'd only been on Dragonstone less than an hour but began work immediately, taking no time to even set up rooms in the abandoned castle until they'd gotten a good head start on supplementing their arsenal.

As Jon chips away at a small portion of the breathtaking mountain of obsidian, hidden away in a cave, his mind wanders back to the events that led him here, to the start of what he hopes will be they're salvation. He also takes a moment to thank the gods he befriended and protected Samwell Tarly.

* * *

" _King in the North!"_

 _"King in the North!"_

 _"King in the North!"_

It still rings in his head a week later.

 _The men that turned their backs on me, on my family, on the North, chanting and shouting 'King in the North', as if if they say it loud enough the gods will hear._

The king can't deny it to himself, it felt good. Being King feels good. _So far_.

His ambitions had never reached as high as wanting to be called King but growing up a disgraced bastard all he's ever wanted was to be respected. To find his way in the world that would lead him to some kind of greatness. That's part of the reason why he wanted to join The Watch. He knew he'd be good, that he could be Lord Commander one day. Jon laughs bitterly in the still room at what had become his reality.

A knife in the heart.

 _Doesn't matter now. I'm alive and even though I'd never expected this level of power, never asked for it, I can't lie to myself that I'm not happy with it. Now with my new station I'm finally being listened to concerning the real threat. Not squabbling houses obsessed with a chair made of melted steel or anything else so mundane._

 _I_ wish _it were Cersei Lannister I was fighting right now. Anything other than my new reality. The Night King and the army of the dead._

Cersei commands he bend the knee or die, blind to his warnings of the real threat. An army that never tires, that leaves no bodies on the battle field and has no use for a throne.

That being said he knows that she won't be a problem for now, not with Winter winds approaching. Sansa assured her brother Cersei is not stupid enough to march a southern army into the North as winter grows colder and harsher.

On the flip side of that coin though it also means no outside support. This war will rely on the North and the North alone.

A shiver rocks his body at the thought and he begins to feel like an idiot.

 _Here I sit, gazing into a fresh fire, safe in my bedchamber, patting myself on the back for my new title, when soon none of it will matter — not if I can't figure out how to defeat The Night King. His army is uncountable, mine very much lacking, and we have no weapons that can destroy them. The only known Valyrian sword in the North belongs to me and we've no dragonglass either; The only thing besides fire that kill the bastards and we have none and I sit here gloating to myself._

"Fool," He whisper to the empty room.

A series of knocks interrupts his thoughts, the harsh rapping jarring him to the point that he thought he had imagined the sound.

He's relieved to find the Maester on the other side and not a shadow created by his own mind.

 _At least I'm not going mad. Yet._

"A Raven, Your Grace."

Jon accepts the scroll and sucks in a breath at the Citadel stamp.

 _Sam_.

"Please, Sam, tell me something good." He whispers to himself.

He had to reread the message a few times, to fully allow his brain to comprehend what his friend has written but once he's sure he grasps the letters meaning loud and clear, he grabs his heavy cloak and rushes out of his chambers in search of Davos.

"Dragon glass? A mountain of it? On Dragonstone?" Davos reads aloud the main points of the letter, a smile growing on his weathered face.

"This is what we've been waiting for," Jon says, unnecessarily, "we go to Dragonstone, mine the glass and start forging it into weapons. We make as many as we can —"

" _We_?" Jon turns to see Sansa looking at him cautiously, foregetting she was even there.

"When you say, ' _we_ ', I hope you don't mean yourself, Jon."

The King eyes his sister unflinchingly.

"We need as many able bodied people as possible mining the glass, the world depends on it."

A hurricane brews in her eyes but he already knows her sure to be unforgiving words won't be enough to change his mind.

"You can't leave now, Jon, you're King in the North, the North needs you!"

"Yes, the North does need me, it needs me to provide for its people and the only way I can do that is if I oversee the mining of the glass." He keeps his tone quite and reserved, not wanting to start a fight, but also not backing down.

"And what will we do here while your away? How do you expect the North to stay intact without a leader? If you abandon the North now, the men will —"

"I'm not abandoning the North, I'm leaving it in good hands."

"Whose?" She screams, tired of their exchange and what she thinks is his continuous stupidity.

"Yours."

There was no more fighting after that. Once he'd uttered the word, her entire stance on his leaving changed.

Jon tries not to think too much into, but he can't help but remember his sordid past with Sansa. _She's never had much love for me, but_ — Jon is immediately racked with guilt at his train of thought. _If I can't trust my family, my sister, who can I trust? Sansa is not the spoiled little girl she once was. She's a mature, strong woman that just wants the best for our people._

But he can't quite convince himself.

* * *

He brings himself out of the past and focuses again on the work, _we all have long hours of hard work ahead of us that will last for weeks and the last thing I need is to be distracted._

So that's what he does, chips away at the beautiful obsidian mountain for hours on end, losing track of time quickly, but the ache in his shoulders and back and the ringing in his ears tells him it's been a long day. His position is closest to the entrance of the cave as well, and even past a bend in the structure It's fairly easy to tell the sun has set. And that Ser Davos has entered.

"I think it's safe to call it a day, Your Grace, the second shift can take over now to work through morning."

Jon brings his axe down again and again, ignoring his chosen Hand.

"Your Grace?"

"I can continue on longer, Davos."

"I've no doubt you could, but you shouldn't, your next shift will begin soon enough, you need to rest."

He ceases his movements as workers need to walk past him to leave the cave and nods at Davos. _He's right of course and there's no need for me to be stubborn._

Even though the sun has set and the costal wind blows harshly, his been so hard at work, he'd discarded everything but his trousers, after sweating through his tunic, and has no intentions of putting them on anytime soon. Even if his scars make him unbearably self-conscious.

"Any word from home," Jon asks as the two comrades emerge from the cave and head to the shore to wash off the dirt and grime. "Or from the south?"

"No, Your Grace, nothing, which I'm taking as a good sign."

Jon nods along, not sure he agrees, but too exhausted to comment and instead cups and rubs the sea water on his filthy face and upper body. His trouser are a lost cause and won't see a proper washing for some time still.

"Who's that?" Someone calls out, as Jon splashes more water on his face.

He looks to the voice then to where the man that has spoken is pointing to see a slight figure a few hundred yards away, walking briskly on the shore right towards their position.

Jon can't make out much about the mysterious person but by the style of cloak, he's sure they aren't with his group.

"They look small, has to be a woman or a maybe even a child." Someone else says and Jon finds himself agreeing.

Jon starts walking towards the figure only to be stopped by Davos as he shoves Jons tunic to him. Jon silently thanks the old smuggler, as he'd completely forgotten of his less than respectable state of undress.

Once clothed he collects a torch from one of the men and walk towards the figure with Davos, waving off the others as they try to follow. He has no idea if he's going to be meeting a friend or foe but he sees no need to frighten them with the large number of men at his back when they have no one. That being said he does strap his sword to his hip. _No need to be too trusting._

The closer The King and the cloaked woman walk towards one another in the darkening evening the surer he becomes that it's a lady. Not even the heavy material can hide her woman's curves.

When they're less than twenty yards from one another, everyone stalls. Jon can't make out her face as she holds no torch and prays it's not the red woman. Despite her evil doings, burning the Princess Shireen, he doesn't wish to have her blood on his hands. Not after she saved his life.

"Are you well, My Lady?" Davos and Jon stand side by side, their torches illuminating them to her perfectly, Jon assumes.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Her voice rings out strong and annoyed, making Jons eyes widen at her aggressive tone. He looks to Davos, also taken aback by the stranger.

"My name is Jon Snow." He doesn't clarify anything else, not sure of his standing with this mystery woman. "And who am I speaking to?"

Jon has no way of knowing if she was about to answer, not being able to see her face, but instead hears someone calling from a fork in one of the stone caves diverting to another part of the shore.

"Your grace! Your grace! Ships! Hundreds of ships!" A young bastard boy no more than ten and three, named Styven runs up to his King, gasping for breath and terrified out of his mind.

" _Ships_ ," Jon repeats urgently, momentarily forgetting the strange woman.

"Did you see the sails?" Davos asks hurriedly.

The boy nods frantically.

"Yes, Ser, I did, but I don't know the sigil, I've never seen it before."

"We'll go on, what was it?" Davos questions.

Jon mentally prepares himself to hear Cersei Lannister has sailed here, ready to demolish his forces and kill the King in the North, as the Usurper she sees him as. What he says instead just leaves Jon completely dumbfounded.

"A dragon!"

That was the last thing Jon expected to hear.

He tilts his head and looks at the boy like he's lost his mind.

"What game are you playing at boy?" Davos growls.

Jon steps closer to the young lad, "Are you sure you're not mistaken?"

"The boy saw correctly," Jons heard jerks back to the woman, a sense of dread washing over him.

 _It can't be_.

She walks closer to him, closer to the light. The first thing Jon sees is perfect pale skin, then the most beautiful face of any woman he's ever seen in his life, currently adorned with a fierce glare shinning through the most startling vibrant lilac eyes.

 _Oh, Gods._

She removes her hood, displaying her long silver-blonde hair and Jons breath is stolen from him.

"My name is Daenerys Stomborn of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and I'd like to know what you are doing trespassing on my lands."

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AN: please, please please, review! Reviews means faster chapters wink wink


	3. The King in the North

AN: I own nothing

To clear up a something in the comments about Yara, Olena etc meeting Jon, in the first chapter I wrote that they've already set onto their missions. Instead of seeing them off, Dany spoke privately with Olena. Sorry if I wasn't clear, small details will undoubtedly escape me sometimes, and I hope you enjoy what I wrote anyways. Alrighty let's do this.

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 **Three: The King in the North**

Mother of Dragons

It didn't take long until Daenerys's men reached her position, standing opposite Jon Snow. They'ed noticed ships on the other side of the island and pushed aside their Queens order of privacy, per her Hands instruction.

The King and Queens eyes do not leave one another as Danys army and Jons group of men fall in place behind their respective sides, a hundred men at his back. Thousands behind Dany and growing.

They haven't said another word — just stared. Dany tries to school her expression, look dignified and queenly, but she knows her anger is shinning through bright and fiery on her face. As for Jon Snow, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

 _Never seen a Targaryen in his life, probably grew up thinking we had become nothing more than legends._

One of the Dothraki, a warrior named Niko, Dany had chose to be one of her personal guards asks her if she wants him to kill these men.

"Not yet." She replies, the harsh dialect a comfort to her tongue.

"Bastard of Winterfell!" Their Graces heads jerks to the side as Tyrion makes a path through the Dothraki to stand by his queens side, Varys and Missandi with him.

The man that had accompanied Jon Snow gives Tyrion a chilling look.

"You are speaking to the _King_ in the North."

"You know this man," Dany asks, doing all she can to speak calmly but failing once she hears the word King come from the elder mans lips.

"I do," Tyrion says in his usual self satisfied and slightly mocking tone, but also with more than a hint of relief, "I must say I'm surprised to see Ned Starks bastard here," Dany turns back to Jon Snow, her temper raging out again on her face, as another layer is added. "perhaps we should move this conversation to some place warmer, no? It's been a long journey and I haven't had a sip of wine in the past hour."

Ned Starks bastard looks down, _probably uncomfortable by my fire. Good._

Dany takes the lead and strides past the Northerns bravely, six Dothraki flanking her from all sides, and journeys to her families castle. _This place had been a haven for my family after the doom of Valyria, and here I stand, my homecoming soiled by a Usurper._

 **King In The North**

Jon couldn't believe his eyes when the woman revealed herself as a Targaryen or when countless Dothraki came running towards their position, screaming and wielding curved blades or when Tyrion Lannister took his place by her side.

 _I don't think I'll ever forget the look that crossed her unique eyes when she learned of my parentage_. Even thinking back on it makes him want to shiver.

 _So much pain. Anger too, of course, a lot of it, but nothing could hide the pain in her gaze, no matter how hard she tried. It was like ghosts clouded her vision._

Jon and Ser Davos stand awkwardly in Dragonstones thrown room, staring mutely at Queen Daenerys setting in a throne crafted from stone, Stannis Baratheons Banner burning in a corner from where it was ripped down by her grace.

Watching her rip down the banner of her enemy reminded him of when the Boltons banners had fallen from the walls of Winterfell and the momentary peace it had brought him. Watching her burn the fabric reminded him of all the stories he heard of her father.

Jon looks to Tyrion again, unsure of what to say.

The dwarf gives Jon a small, pity filled smile.

"It's good to see you, Jon. I wish it was under better circumstances. The last time was on the wall, I believe."

Jon nods his head as his lips twitch at the memory.

"Aye, if I remember correctly you were pissin' off —"

Jon realizes what he'd been saying, in front of not just a women, strange women, but a Queen and trails off self consciously.

He looks sharply to her and to the other woman by her side, hoping they hadn't taken offense to his coarse language.

He expected he'd find more ire, or maybe disgust, but if anything her expression seems a bit more tampered.

"My apologies . . . Your Grace."

She takes a deep breath, her lovely chest rising and falling hypnotically.

 _Focus, fool._

"What are you doing here on Dragonstone?"

Jon looks to Davos, silently looking for strength to say what needs to be said.

"My men and I are here to mine the dragon glass inside the surrounding caves."

"Why?"

"To forge them into weapons."

"Why do you need need weapons made of dragon glass?"

Jon opens his mouth, ready to explain everything, but pauses _. She won't believe me. Nobody has so far, she'll be no different._

She speaks again, her tone deepened, making Jon wish desperately he was wearing his armor. And Longclaw, but his, and all of his men's, weapons had been stripped from them.

"If you're here on the orders of the usurper Cersei Lannister, I'm afraid she's sent you on a fools errand, it'll take lot more then dragon glass tipped arrows to take down my children."

Jon jerks in surprise and looks to her utterly confused. _Her children_?

"I don't know what you mean by that, Your Grace, but I'm not here on anyone's orders but my own. We're mining the dragon glass to defeat the enemy to the North. The real enemy."

"You call yourself King, as far as I can see _you_ _are_ the enemy to the North."

"Then you can't see very far."

 _Why the fuck did I say that? How stupid can you be, Snow?_

One of her guards, a dark skinned man dressed in fine boiled leather, opposed to animal skins like the Dothraki, sneers and places a hand on his dagger at his hip.

 _Fool_!

Jon looks back to Daenerys and finds her slightly smirking.

"Then by all means, educate me, My Lord."

 _How has she, the Mad Kings daughter, not made me join Stannis Baretheons banner yet?_

"Hmm," Davos hums, "pardon me, I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know, but as I said before — Jon Snow is King in the North, he's not a Lord."

The Queen looks at the old smuggler questioningly.

"And you are?"

"Ser Davos Seaworth, Your Grace."

"A pleasure to meet you, Ser Davos; you must forgive me, I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn I read once that the last King in the North was Torrund Stark. Until he swore fealty to my ancestor, Aegon Targaryen, in perpetuity. Or do I have my facts wrong?"

Davos looks on annoyed at the young Queen, "I don't know the particulars of that meetin', Your Grace, I wasn't there, but —"

"No, of course not, but still an oath is an oath and perpetuity means _forever_. So, now that you've been reminded of your family's vow, Lord Snow, I assume you will denounce your title and bend the knee to me?"

Jon breathes in deeply, gathering all the courage he has.

"I will not."

Daenerys gives Jon a long blink.

"That is unfortunate, first I find you defiling my ancestral home, soiling my first contact with Westeros since I was a babe, and now you break faith with House Targaryen."

Jon snorts, growing tired of this game.

"Break faith? Your father burned my Grandfather alive. Burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingd—"

"—My father was an evil man . . ."

Jon stumbles, shocked to his core at the Mad Kings daughters words. He sees the pain it caused her to say it, it's the only time she hasn't looked him in the eyes. But she's looking again now.

"On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family and I also ask you to not judge a daughter for the sins of her father."

 _Those were the same words I had said when faced with the need to decide the fates of Alys Karstark and little Ned Umber, the children of the men that had betrayed house Stark and fought for the Boltons. Sansa had openly ordered me to strip them of their titles and lands and give their homes to loyal families. Something I could never do. I didn't blame them for their fathers sins, and I can't do it now._

"Our two houses were allies for centuries," Daenerys says passionately, "and those were the best centuries the Seven Kingdoms have ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with a Targaryen sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North."

Something warm settles in Jons chest as he listens to the genuine conviction in Daenerys words.

"I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine and bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it."

Jon stares at the young, gorgeuous Queen, debating her words carefully. He can't lie to himself —to not be King, maybe wouldn't be so bad to him; _it could be a relief_. He didn't ask for this, doesn't even know if he can do it. But he does know he loves his people. Would die for the North. He can't let it fall into the hands of someone he doesn't know he can trust.

"You're right, you're not guilty of your father crimes . . . just as I am not beholden to my ancestors vows."

Jon readies himself for whatever Queen Daenerys has to say but nothing comes except for a loud commotion behind him.

Jon swivels backwards as the double doors to the throne room are pushed open and a bald man rushes in.

"Your Grace," he calls out urgently, going up to his queen and whispering in her ear.

Jon and Davos share yet another look. _This whole day has been bat shit_.

The queen looks to her advisor when he's done explaining whatever the situation is with calculating eyes.

"Send him in, Lord Varys." She commands, to which Varys bows and rushes out of the room again. Daenerys turns back to her original guests.

"Please accept my apologizes, My Lords, but it seems we have another eager guest, asking for my audience. We will continue, once Lord Greyjoy has been seen to."

 _Greyjoy_?

A flare of rage rushes through Jons body at the name and he turns to storm out of the room.

"No need to leave, Lord Snow, it'll take but a moment."

Jon pauses, refusing to turn to back to the queen but not daring to leave either, instead he and Davos move to the side of the room, closer to one of the Dothraki screamers than comfort dictates.

 _I swear to the old gods and new if Theon Greyjoy walks through that door — I'll kill him._

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AN: pleeeeeeeaaaaaase review


	4. Proposals

AN: I own nothing.

* * *

 **Four: Proposals**

Mother of Dragons

Varys reentered the throne room just as fast as he left it when sent to fetch the new unexpected guest. Now striding beside him is a man Dany had been wondering when she'd meet.

Dany appraises Euron Greyjoy throughly as he strides confidently in the large candle lit room and decides he looks as every bit as formidable as legend says. One look into his crazed, teal eyes presents a hard, blood thirsty man. The sea made flesh.

She sneaks another peak at Jon Snow and finds he compares in many ways to the Sea King.

Handsome, scarred men, both claiming themselves Kings, hardened by life. Even though he has yet to say a word, Dany immediately recognizes Eurons rough exterior almost like a perfectly crafted bravado, much like a whores thrall. Jon seems . . . more organic in a way. A part of him he can't hide, not something he revels in. And His eyes aren't crazed — they're haunted.

Dany becomes uncomfortable with herself when she then compares her own personality to these men. Does she present herself with dignity as Ned Starks son does? Or does she seem like her fathers daughter?

Euron Greyjoy halts only when forced to by the Dothraki standing on the steps below their Khaleesis throne. He looks around the room, a jokers smirk on his chapped lips and a defiant look in his wild eyes.

"Your Grace," Varys says, "presenting Euron Greyjoy of the Iron Islands."

" _King_ ," Euron supplements loudly, "of the Iron Islands."

Varys displaces himself from the proud Kraken and walks to Daenerys's side.

Missandei raises her chin proudly; she'd confided in her Queen not that long ago that this was her favorite part.

 **King in the North**

"You are standing in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen the First of Her Name. Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Protector of the Realm. Queen of Meereen. Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. The Unburnt. The Breaker of Chains and The Mother of Dragons."

 _Mother of Dragons? What?_ Jon doesn't have long to dwell on the odd title.

Daenerys looks down at Euron unflinchingly, even as his gaze goads her. When the queens . . . Friend, finishes, Euron bows mockingly and licks his lips suggestively, looking at her like she was something to eat. Jon tells himself the subsequent anger that boils in his blood is because that's no way to look at any woman untoward, and he almost succeeds, if even a small part of him still focuses on his own oddly placed jealousy.

 _Daenerys Targaryen is beautiful, of course any man can see that._

He doesn't dwell long as Euron turns his gaze to him and Jon wishes again he was wearing armor.

"And who might you be?" He asks Jon, tilting his head and putting his hands behind his back.

Jon looks to the man, barely hiding his disgust, then to Davos after an awkward pause.

The old smuggler jerks slightly, momentarily forgetting his duty.

"This is Jon Snow . . . He's King in the North."

Jon looks back to Euron only slightly embarrassed by his Hands' lack of eloquence.

Eurons eyes light up and he giggles as he turns back to the Queen.

" _A-a-ah_ , I see, I did hope I would present myself as your first suitor, but that's alright; I don't mind a little competition. Anyone else I'll need to kill to win your affections?" He twists in place looking around the grand, dim room.

Jon eyes Dany, once again unsure of what to do in this foreign situation.

"There will be no killing, you are here under a peace agreement and that goes both ways. And as for my suitors, you are not one, which makes them none of your business."

Jon swallows the lump in his throat when he realizes she didn't correct Greyjoy — that Jon isn't a suitor, but to her, a Usurper. He looks to her again, his manhood hardening against his will at her otherworldly beauty.

"If that's all you came here to say, Lord Greyjoy —"

"The moment I was chosen, _fairly_ , as King of the Iron Islands, my niece and nephew turned on me, their own uncle. They stole my best ships and ran. To you." He points rudely at Daenerys, that infuriating smirk still in place. "It's nothing compared to what you've suffered of course, but still, it bothers me. I know you have joined your forces with them but I offer you the chance to change your allegiance. Join your forces with a rightful monarch and together we will destroy all our enemies instead of sulking on our islands."

Tyrion steps forward, eyeing Euron as if he were a bear instead of a man.

"But you're not a rightful monarch, are you? The Greyjoys rebelled against the crown for the right to be independent, but if I recall you were soundly defeated. Come to mention it, weren't you the one who started that rebellion by sailing to Casterly Rock and burning the Lannister fleet? You certainly caught us there. Of course we made it to the Iron Islands anyway."

Euron giggles again.

"I remember it well, your brother was there — I saw him. I heard so much talk, " _the best in the world, no one can stop the Kingslayer_. . .""

Jon watches sympathetically as Daenerys flinches slightly, unable to hide her discomfort at the mention of the man that slayed her father.

"I didn't believe it, to be honest. But I must say when he rushed through the breach and started cutting people down . . . It was glo-o-orious."

Everyone in the room looks on with disgust as he smiles again, readjusting his collar nonchalantly.

"They were your own kin." Daenerys says, unimpressed.

Euron shrugs. "Place was getting crowded. But that day was a special one for me. If Jamie Lannister hadn't crushed us, I wouldn't have gone into exile, and if I hadn't done that, I wouldn't I have become the greatest captain of the 14 seas this world has ever seen. We share that in common, Dragon queen, don't we? A little exile did us good."

Daenerys sneers, but even that can't taint how comely she is.

"So —" Euron tries to move closer to Daenerys but is once again stopped by the fierce Dothraki men, Jon himself also shifting so as to stop that mad man from moving any closer to her.

"— I offer you the chance to set things right. Denounce your support of my niece, help me kill her and my ships will be all yours."

Dany looks down at him long and hard.

"And marry you, as well, correct? Is that what you ask in return?"

Euron licks his lips again, angering Jon further.

 _Get your head our of your arse, Snow!_

"Yes. Ever since I was a little boy I wanted to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, so here I am. Standing in the presence of the _most beautiful woman in the world_ , with a thousand ships and —"

"— And a big cock, right?" Dany interrupts mockingly, everyone stunned by what she just said, "or did Yara feed me false information?"

Jon realizes Dany must be quoting Eurons words back at him.

Euron licks his lips once again and provocatively adjusts himself as Daenerys eyes basically say " _check mate_."

"You don't trust my intentions. Understandable. In my experience the surest way to a woman's heart is with a gift. A _priceless_ gift."

Euron strides to the entrance, throws the doors open and curls his fingers to someone out of view.

Another Iron born man comes into view, dragging behind him a man with his wrists tied up and a hood on his head.

Euron takes control of the prisoner and forces him before the Queen.

"For you, Your Grace," he rips off the mans hood, "the bastard of Robert Baratheon."

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AN: pleeeaaase review. Review review !


	5. The Queens Justice

AN: I've legit never in my life worked harder on a fanfic, doing GoT is a whole other beast. Thank you so much for the reviews! I own nothin.

* * *

 **Five: The Queens Justice**

Mother of Dragons

Thoughts of fire and blood fill Daenerys head but she ignores them for now. _This could all be a ruse._

" _Gendry_!" Ser Davos calls out, stepping forward, a look of horror in his eyes.

Euron puts a hand out to stop the man. "No closer, this gift isn't for you, it's for the Queen."

Euron shakes the tied up man by his shoulder. "Bow to our queen."

He forces him to bow, smirking.

Dany looks to Ser Davos.

"You know this man?"

Davos doesn't turn his gaze from who he called Gendry.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"How?"

"Hmm, it's a long story, Your Grace."

Dany purses her lips, looking from one to the other. "Fair enough, Does Lord Greyjoy, speak truly? Is this the bastard of Robert Baratheon?"

Ser Davos doesn't say anything, his lips twisted up under his full beard.

Dany turns back to Gendry, the old mans silence all the verification she needs. He doesn't look up from the floor, his shaggy black hair falling into his face.

"I've no idea what Jon Snow, that is a _bastards_ name, right," Euron taunts, "brought you, but I'd be willing to bet it's not as fine as the chance for revenge I've laid at your feet." Euron trips Gendry, until he's flat on the floor, groaning as his bones collide with the unforgiving stones.

"Where did you find him?"

Euron giggles again and kicks the lad.

"A brothel in The Shield Lands. Poor lad didn't even get to enjoy his moneys worthy, I'm ashamed to say."

Euron looks to Dany, and grins with his hands clasped in front of him, one hip cocked. The picture of mocking ease.

"So . . . Should we find a Maester first? Or a mercenary? I'd do the honors myself, for you, my queen, but it might be bad luck to kill a man on my wedding day." Euron lowers his voice, a new heat deepening it. "Unless you like that kind of thing."

Dany breathes in deeply, unable to take her eyes of the haggard boy, but she finds it safer than meeting the eyes with anyone else in the room. Not Davos looking as if his son is about to die, or Tyrions cautious gaze that always seems to be waiting for her to act Mad, like her father.

"I decline your proposal."

Euron Greyjoy is no longer smiling and Gendry is no longer hiding, staring up at the queen in utter disbelief.

"Why?"

"I've no use for Mad Usurpers."

"And who do _you_ think you're calling Mad?"

"The man that just offered to kill an innocent boy if it merely amuses me."

"Innocent boy? This is Robert Baratheons bast—"

"— bastard, yes. But He is not _Robert Baratheon_ , though, is he?" Dany glances at a tightly wound Jon Snow.

"I will not punish a son for his fathers sins."

 **King in the North**

Euron spits at his feet.

"I will make you will regret this!" He rages softly, gazing into her eyes cruelly, "You will regret making me your enemy. I'll tear your armies apart, enslave your children and all those still left standing! And when I'm done destroying everything you have, I'll take you for myself! You'll be my slave to do with as I please, I'll rape you every night!"

Every man, besides Tyrion and Lord Varys, moves forward aggressively, placing hands on their swords. Jon included, but he grabs only his own stomach, startling him tremendously. _That's right, they took it._

Daenerys raises a hand — halting all movement from the men wishing to defend her honor.

"My Queen," the livid Unsullied solider by her side says, " please allow me to take this animals tongue." His common tongue is slightly jumbled, but his meaning is clear.

Her Grace only smiles softly, never looking away from Euron.

"Thank you for your offer, Grey Worm, but we only take mens tongues when we fear what they have to say."

Jons chest rises and falls dramatically, stunned by this woman one turn after the next. _That's something my father would have said_.

Daenerys rises and steps down two of the three steps, closer than Jon would want her to be to Euron Greyjoy, but still standing above him.

"And that animal can not make me fear pain I've already endured," Jons eyes widen when he comprehends her meaning, "endured by much scarier men than him."

"Go back to your ships, My Lord," Tyrion moves to stand closer to his queens back as she orders Euron away, "there's a war coming — You best prepare. The next time we we see each other will be on opposite sides of a battle field, as you stare down the eyes of a dragon about to set you a flame."

 _She really is the blood of the dragon, isn't she?_

Euron smirks again, this time not mocking, but bloodthirsty. He grabs at Gendry, but Daenerys orders something swiftly in Dothraki, and the two closest warriors come up on either of Gendrys sides and bars Eurons advance with their curved blades.

"You gave Gendry to me, as a gift. Remember?"

Euron eyes the dark men for a long time, but he steps back without a fight. Jon feels Davos exhale beside him.

"The next time I see you, _will_ be on a battlefield, won't it," Euron ponders aloud, "The day I will join the legends of Brave men that slayed the Dragons."

Daenerys sneers.

"The brave men didn't kill the dragons," she disagrees loftily, " _they rode them_."

A shiver crawls down Jons spine and legs.

 _Oh yes, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen is a dragon. Any fool could see the fire in her even if she is a bit flamboyant with her figure of speeches._

Euron leaves with a hungry, murder filled look and the tension leaves Jons body.

Until he looks back to Daenerys, now staring down at Gendry.

She says something in a tongue Jon doesn't understand, much different than Dothraki and the one she called Grey Worm steps forward, unsheathing his dagger.

Jon, Davos and Tyrion gasp, stunned and terrified of what he will do to the boy. Jon and Davos move forward but stop as they watch the proud soldier simply cut off the terrified bastards restraints.

He moves back behind his Queen as if he didn't just scare the life out of everyone in that room, most of all Gendry.

"It's late," Daenerys says softly, reminding everyone it's the middle of the night, she turns back to Jon, "I hope you don't mind if we reconvene on the morrow, until then—"

"You're really not going to kill me?" Gendry calls out, speaking for the first time, Jon realizes.

Dany purses her lips. "You've done nothing to deserve to be executed, as far as I know."

Gendry looks up at the silver haired beauty, confused.

"But after my father did to your family? Took your throne, murdered your brother—"

"—do you _wish_ to die," Daenerys asks sharply.

Gendry steps back.

"No, I don't, but I don't understand, I—"

"— I meant what I said," she looks briefly at Jon again, "your fathers sins are not yours. And as for my brother," she squares her shoulders and steps down, toe to toe with her enemies son. "Rhaeger died at the Battle of the Tridant. He was bested in hand to hand combat by your father, as sick as that makes me to say. There is no murder on a battlefield, Gendry. Only killing."

Jon thinks back to his brother, little Rickon, his heart weeping for the exception to the queens words.

Daenerys takes a deep breath and looks around the room. "Rooms will be prepared for you all, and your men, Lord Snow. Goodnight."

Jon steps forward before she could leave with her companions.

"Am I your prisoner?"

She turns back, and eyes him.

"Not yet."

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AN: pleeeeeeaaaaasse review.


	6. The Real Enemy

AN: I own nothing

* * *

 **Six: The Real Enemy**

King in the North

Davos, Gendry, and Jon left the Throne room, escorted by the same Dothraki men that stopped Euron from snatching Gendry, and the woman that stood by her Queen, Missandei, another great beauty.

"Well, that certainly was eventful." Davos remarks, glancing down at his friend.

Gendry doesn't notice Davos's gaze and before too long he stops, turns a corner and vomits.

"Can't say I blame you, lad." Davos says, patting the sick man on the back as he dry heaves.

The Dothraki men say something to one another then laugh and Missandei purses her full lips.

 _Not hard to figure out they're mocking the boy._

Once Gendry is finished, Missandei hands him a cloth gracefully and they continue walking again.

Davos strides up closer to her.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are you to Queen Daenerys?"

Missandei smiles lovelily, her sweet face still strong and proud.

"I am one of her advisors, her translator and her friend."

Davos nods his head.

"Where are you from? I can't place the accent."

"I was born on the island of Naath."

" _A-a-ah,_ I hear it's beautiful there, palm trees and butterflies, haven't been myself."

Missandeis smile turns sad and she walks further ahead to pick out rooms for her three charges.

Davos falls back and looks at Gendry.

"How are you feeling son?"

"Like I've been kidnapped and sold and almost murdered."

Jon steps in before Davos can comment.

"You weren't almost murdered, you heard the queen. She had no intentions on your life."

Jon understand the lad had just been through a traumatic experience but it still angers him that he discredits, even if by accident, what she just did.

She could have killed him and that would have been the end of it. He may be the son of the old King, but he's a bastard with no living family, no one to care he's gone.

 _Instead, even though it must have pained her to do so no matter her words about not punishing one for someone else's sins, she spared him._

They are quickly deposited in empty chambers with a promise that their things, bar any weapons, will be delivered to them.

Even alone in his own room Jon feels naked without his armor but he didn't let that stop him from taking off his clothing and falling asleep, too exhausted from mining the dragon glass and the emotional rollercoaster he was put through.

The worst part of all of this is he had had a plan. Mine the glass, go home. That's it. Now his work is halted until Daenerys says they can continue. And he has another queen demanding he bends the knee.

He only saw a few small parts of her character but it's obvious she's better than Cersei. She could have killed him the moment Davos uttered the words King in the North. But she didn't. She could have been seduced by Euron Greyjoy offering her his ships and helping hand in destroying her enemies. She wasn't. She could have had Gendrys head, gone against her own plea to him to not judge a child for their fathers actions, but she remained true and let the boy live.

 _I have to convince her of the real threat. If I can do that, I feel she will fight beside me. I think . . . I don't know, but I must try._

He dreamt of her.

 **Mother of Dragons**

Missandei and Daenerys had spent a pleasant morning styling each other's hair, a tradition among them and talked of their guests.

"Did they say anything?" Danys asks, enjoying Missandeis gentle touch, "When you escorted them to their rooms? Which are where, by the way?"

"I put them near, your grace, a few corridors down from your chambers, facing the private beach. Near enough to you if you need to see to them, but far away that they won't find an easy conquest should they become violent. The rest of the men have been put on the complete other side of the castle."

"Sounds good, my friend."

"As for conversation, not much was said, Gendry had a moment where he fell ill, and Ser Davos made small talk with me, but Jon Snow . . . "

Daenerys looks up at her friends odd pause.

"Yes?"

"Well, Gendry remarked he'd almost been murdered, by Your Grace, and Jon Snow defended you. Said you had no intentions on his life. He seemed . . . impressed, if I read him correctly."

Dany doesn't let herself think of Jon Snow, it takes her to odd places, and instead smiles up at her friend.

"I find it impossible to believe someone with your expertise in languages would read anything incorrectly."

Missandei giggles at her Queens praise.

They continue on, enjoying their alone time together, neither looking forward to resuming last nights conversation.

Although Dany has something just as difficult to broach with Missandei.

"The Unsullied will sail off today. For Casterly Rock."

Missandei freezes, a section of Danys silky hair still in her grip.

"You don't have to say anything, Missandei, but if you need to talk, I'm here for you."

Daenerys feels a kiss placed on her cheek and smiles knowing Missandei will be alright.

 _As long as Grey Worm is._

* * *

When Daenerys, accompanied by her friend and guards finally makes it to the throne room she finds Jon Snow and Ser Davos already waiting for her.

Tyrion walks in from a side entrance as Daenerys takes her seat.

"My apologies for the delay, you now have my undivided attention."

Ser Davos and Jon Snow approach as close as they dare.

"Where were we?"

Jon Snow opens his mouth to speak but Dany inches in before he can.

"Oh, wait, I remember. You have refused to bend the knee. I don't know that there is much left to say."

"There _is_ much left you say," Jon rushes out, "I need your help, and you need mine."

Dany quirks an eyebrow.

"I need your help?"

Daenerys then remembers he hasn't seen her Dragons. They have yet to make it to Dragonstone. She doesn't worry for them, if something were wrong she'd know it. She doesn't know where they are, but she knows they're safe.

"Not to defeat Cersei," Ser Davos explains, "you could storm Kings Landing tomorrow and the city would fall, hell we almost took it and we didn't have half the forces you do."

"Almost." Tyrion repeats, moodily.

Daenerys looks confused to Jon Snow.

"You tired to take Kings Landing?"

Jons eyes crinkle and Ser Davos steps forward.

"No, your grace, I did, when I was allied with Stannis Baratheon."

"So you traded one king for another, why?"

"It wasn't as simple as trading one king for another. Not when I learned of what was out there."

Jon steps forward despite the off putting Dothraki.

"But back to Davos's original point — you haven't stormed Kings Landing. Why not? The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war, but you won't do it. Which at the very least, makes you better than Cersei."

Dany smothers the small tingle in her stomach at hearing Jon Snow give her a compliment, even if a back handed one.

"Still, that doesn't explain why I need your help."

She watches as Jon looks to his boots then up again at her.

"Because right now you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we're children playing at a game screaming that the rules aren't fair."

Dany looks to Tyrion, he's facing away from her but she knows he'll know she's speaking to him.

"You told me you liked this man."

" _I do_."

"In the time since he's met me he's refused to call me queen. Refused to bow and now he's calling me a child."

Tyrion eyes Jon Snow.

"I believe he's calling all of us children; figure of speech."

"Your Grace, everyone you will love will die before winters over if we don't defeat the enemy in the North."

Dany tilts her head and raises and a brow at him, silently reminding him he's already said that last night, as they find themselves rehashing last nights words, and her reply.

Jon Snow shifts his head having caught on quickly.

"I am not your enemy. The dead are the enemy."

Dany stares at the Northman, stunned.

"The dead?" She turns to Tyrion again. "Is that another figure of speech?"

"The army of the dead is on the march —"

"—The army of the dead," Tyrion edges, doubtingly.

 _Glad I'm not the only one not buying into this._

"You don't know me well, My Lord," Jon says to Tyrion, "but do you think I'm a liar or a madman?"

"No, I don't think either of those things." Tyrion says with conviction.

"The army of the dead is _real_. The white walkers are real, The Night King is real. I've seen them, if they get pass the wall and we're squabbling amongst ourselves, we're finished."

A long uncomfortable pause over takes the room until Dany Rises from her throne.

 **King in the North**

"I've faced many things in my life, Lord Snow. Assassins, Warlords, Masters, my own Kin, and worst of all . . . Exile. I spent my life in foreign lands, so many men have tried to kill and so many men have failed."

She begins to walk towards Jon, making the Northern feel like he's being trapped and all he can do is look on anxiously.

"I have been sold like a broodmare. I've been chained and betrayed. Raped and defiled."

 _Gods_. Jon flinches. She alluded to as much when she spoke to Euron, but he never expected her to say it so openly.

"Do you know what kept me standing during all those years in exile?"

She's not looking for an answer so Jon doesn't give one, but he knows his eyes are showing her too much.

She stops directly in front of him.

" _Faith_. Not in any gods. Not in _myths and legends_. In myself; in Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries —"

Once again Jon is confused at her mention of Dragons. He understands it's her houses sigil, Targaryens had always called themselves the 'blood of the dragon' but the context in which she keeps saying it is odd. _'Hadn't seen a dragon in centuries?' He father ruled two decades ago._

"—The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, _any_ sea. _They did for me_. I was _born_ to rule the Seven Kingdoms, and _I will_."

Jon looks deep into her sparkling lilac eyes, not unmoved by her words, but also not convinced of her either, as she hasn't even given what he said a chance.

"You'll be ruling over a grave yard, if we don't defeat the Night King."

Tyrion steps forward but Jon has only eyes for The Dragon.

"The war against my sister has already begun, you can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting . . . Whatever you saw beyond the wall."

"You don't believe him," Davos says matter of fact, "I understand, it sounds like nonsense. But if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it's also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros? He was the first to make allies of Wildlings and Northmen. He was named Lord Commander of The Nights Watch, not because of his birthright, he has no birthright, he's a _damned_ _bastard_. All those hard sons of bitches choose him as their leader because they believe in him. All those things you don't believe in, he's faced those things, he fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people! Took a knife in the heart for his people; gave his life—"

Jon cuts Davos off swiftly with a look. If they're not going to believe him about the White Walkers, there's no use telling them he's come back from the other side.

Davos nods his head to his king.

"If we don't put aside our enmities and bound together, we will die and then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron throne."

"If it doesn't matter, than you might as will kneel, swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys. Help her to defeat my sister and together our armies will protect the North."

"There's no time for that," Jon exclaims, "there's no time for any of this. While we stand here debating—"

"It takes no time to bend the knee, pledge your sword to her cause."

"And why should I do that?! I mean no disrespect, Your Grace," he spits out her title like it's a dirty word, "but I don't know you. As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your fathers name and my own father fought to over throw the Mad King. The lords of the North placed their trust in me to lead them and I will continue to do so as well as I can."

Jons breathing heavily and his focus blurs once he's done, surprised with even himself.

 _Is this when she takes my head?_

"That's fair."

 _What_?

"It's also fair to point out that I am the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself King of the Northern most Kingdoom, you are in open rebellion."

Jons back stiffens proudly as he looks deep into Daenerys Stormborn lavender eyes.

 _So be it._

* * *

AN: please please please review.


	7. Battle Schemes & Similar Themes

AN: I own nothing.

Answering reviews:

So a reviewer said I'm not changing much at all. Sorry if they things I've changed or added aren't working for some of you, I probably should have said in my first AN that the dialogue is going to remain the same for most of the story, because I like a lot of it in the season (not all, but a lot). Though I will add my own as well. I already have the next five chapters written that I hope you like better if you all decide to continue reading.

STARDUSTDRAGONKIGHT: don't get ahead of me now ;)

URAZZ: I'm kinda confused by the second part of your review, you asked if Jon is going to tell Dany why he was on Dragonstone . . . And he already did that. For dragonglass, they already had that conversation.

This chapter is pretty much the same as the scene in the ep, sorry about the lack of changes, but I'll go back to adding my own stuff in the next chapters, I promise.

* * *

 **Seven: Battle Schemes and Similar Themes**

Mother of Dragons

Daenerys stands eerily still on the balcony of Dragonstones council room and stares out to the ocean, searching for anything that would change her present disappointment.

"Are you sure they're not in danger or . . . lost," Tyrion asks, coming up to her side, handing her a cup of wine.

Dany looks down at her hand, declining the cup.

"I promise you, they're fine. They'll come when they're ready or if I call to them. I don't know what they're doing, but I think it might important, to them, that is. And anyways," she sighs, "we have more pressing matters to attend to."

The discussion with Jon Snow had been once again interrupted because of Euron Greyjoy.

She turns and walks back to the map table her ancestor Aegon the Conquer hand crafted himself, displaying all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Tyrion, Varys and Missandei come closer as well.

"Explain to me again what happened. Every detail." Daenerys commands picking up the wooded kraken figure and examining it dispassionately.

"It would seem," Varys draws, "As soon as Euron Greyjoy left Dragonstone he tracked Yaras fleet. Their was a battle, it's lasted mere minutes, if my information is correct. Yara, Elleria and one of her daughters, I'm afraid I'm not sure which one, was kidnapped, everyone else was killed with the exception of Theon and a dozen men. They're on their way back now, but the only ship capable of sailing was badly damaged so it might be sometime until they arrive."

Dany sighs again and places the Kraken and the Sun figures down on their sides.

"Did they target Olena Tyrell as well?"

"No, your grace, she made it safely to Highgarden."

Dany nods. _That's good at least. But the Iron Islands and Dorne were worth far more than, Highgarden, in that moment._

Dany looks to Tyrion swiftly only just realizing something.

"To take Yara, a woman after his throne is understandable, but to take the Snake Mother and one of her children . . . "

Tyrion eyes light up in understanding catching onto his Queens train of thought.

"They're worthless to him, but to someone that holds a grudge. . . "

Dany purses her lips.

"When I sent Euron away, I, of course, assumed he'd tuck tail and run off to Cersei, and there would be nothing I can do about, unless I break the peace agreement. I knew he'd say the same things he said to me. Tell his sob story, proclaim her the most beautiful woman in the world . . . "

Missandei gasps. "Give her a priceless gift."

"The woman that killed her beloved daughter." Tyrion finishes softly.

"We need to find Eurons fleet and sink it before he can reach Kings Landing." Dany declares, resting her hands heavily on the table.

Varys flinches, "Your Grace, he's already destroyed a good portion of our fleet. To send our remaining ships after him—"

"I'm not talking about sending our ships after him."

Tyrion cocks his head, unsure if he should be interested in the idea Daenerys is alluding to.

"Would you have to go yourself? Eurons ships could be anywhere or In More than one place. You'd be flying around the open sea, alone for who knows how long."

Dany stands taller.

"I wouldn't be alone. I would have Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. What can anyone do to them?"

Missandei rounds the table to her Queens side.

"They can still do something to _you_. It only takes one arrow, Your Grace."

Dany looks to here fear stricken friend, beautiful still, and grasps her hand. Missandei has come a long way. In the beginning she rarely ventured to speak unless spoken to, her former masters training ingrained too deeply than to break free of it quickly. But as the years have progressed, she's grown strong and out spoken. Dany looks to her with pride.

"Missandei is right, Your grace," Tyrion says with a sense of finality, "it's too great a risk, you're too important."

Dany nods once, knowing her advisers are advising her well.

"What about Casterly Rock?" Daenerys asks, to which Missandei perks up.

"It's not too far from here, the Unsullied will be there soon."

"And what will they face?" Missandei asks.

"A difficult situation, I'm afraid," Varys replies, "they know we're coming."

Tyrion nods and refills his wine cup.

"Yes, Cersei belives my sole purpose in life is to destroy house Lannister. She'll be ready. No one has ever taken The Rock. The Lannisters army is still the army my father built. Well trained and well provisioned. 10,000 men at least. They'll see us coming and they'll be prepared. The gates of Casterly Rock are impregnable. The fight up the walls will be hard. Our men will be at a disadvantage. Many will die, just as my father said they would."

Tyrion laughs humorlessly.

"Interesting thing about my father, he built our house up from a near ruin just as he built our army and Casterly Rock as we know it. But he didn't build the sewers, thought it was beneath him. So he gave the job to the lowest person he could find — me. He was right, I was low, the company I kept low — women mostly."

Missandei and Daenerys share a look while Varys rolls his eyes softly.

"They weren't welcome to the rock. Father disapproved. I couldn't bring them through the front gate, couldn't have them in my chambers, so in the process of building the sewers, I threw in something for myself. A passage that begins at an out of the way cove by the sea and ended beneath one of the main guard towers.

"Casterly Rock is an impregnable fortress, but as a good friend of mine once said, "Give me 10 good me and I'll impregnate the bitch". They will face the bulk of the Lannister army, they will be outnumbered. They will have less armor and fewer weapons —"

"Then how will they win?" Missandei asks thickly.

Tyrion gives her a sympathetic look.

"Because my sisters armies fight for her out of fear. The Unsullied will be fighting for something greater. They will be fighting for freedom and the person who gave it to them."

"So," Dany sighs, not knowing if the reason why they fight is going to make much of a difference when their lives depend on winning, "what do we do now?"

Tyrion empties his goblet in a few gulps.

"We wait."

* * *

AN: Once again sorry this chapter didn't have many add ons, but that'll change in the next chapters, I just liked this scene the way it is. I hear your fustrions though, and hope you guys stick with me and the way I craft season seven until we get into what I think/want to happen in season 8.


	8. Brooding Brothers

AN: hope you all are still enjoying the story. I own nothing.

* * *

 **Eight: Brooding Brothers**

King in the North

He dreamt of her again.

He can't really remember what the dream was about, but he thinks she smiled a lot, but he can't picture it, he's yet to see her have a lot of other emotions Other than rage or pain. If he's this stunned by her beauty after only seeing her moody, he can't imagine his heart can handle being in the presence of her genuine smile.

 _You're heart? Gods, your pathetic, Snow._

Jon journeys up one of the tallest cliffs, internally berating himself.

 _You're a grown, experienced man, not a boy with his first crush! You've had women effect you before, to not even mention Ygritte, I can't bare thinking about how I disrespect her memory by lusting after the Sliver haired queen But even before her, girls pursued you and you turned them all down without much thought. Even the red woman, she'd bared herself to me and climbed right on my lap, told me I could have her, and I almost did, but even then I wasn't seduced. Ygritte was different. Ygritte was real. So why am I allowing myself to be seduced by Daenerys? Not that she actively tried to seduce me . . . quote the opposite, but it would seem she doesn't even have to try._

Jons thoughts are cut off as he notices Tyrion walking towards him, the harsh winds feel as if they could take Jon away, he can't imagine how it must be for the dwarf.

"I came here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack," Tyrion announces, looking over the cliff to the wild sea, "you're making it difficult, you look so much better brooding than I do. You make me feel like I'm failing at brooding at brooding at failing."

A dozen thoughts run through Jons mind, a dozen things he wants to blurt out, not a damn one of them appropriate to say to the hand of the Queen. It's only then he realized instead of agonizing over his, for lack of a better word, obsession with the Queen, he should be thinking of ways to convince her and her Hand of the white walkers.

"I'm a prisoner on this island." _Safe enough, if not a bit whiny._

Tyrion smirks.

"I wouldn't say you're a prisoner on this island. You're free to walk the castle, the beaches, to go wherever you want.

"Except to my ship. You took my ship."

"I wouldn't say we took—"

"I'm not playing word games with you," Jon hollers over the wind, angrily, "the dead are coming for us all, and we're wasting time!"

Tyrion nods and sighs.

"Why don't you figure out what to do about my missing fleet and murdered allies and I'll figure out what to do about your dead men."

 _Gods, I forgot how annoying Tyrion Lannister could be._

"It's hard for me to fathom, it really is, If someone told me about white walkers and the Night king . . . "

Jon trails off as his words sink into himself. Someone _had_ told him about white walkers before — a deserter of the Nights Watch his father had beheaded. Among his last words was 'T _hey're real. The white walkers are real, I saw them._ ' Jon had felt bad for the man, taking his delusions with him to his grave, but as it turns out he was all too right.

Jon peeks at Tyrion to see the dwarf looking at him expectantly, knowing exactly the conclusion Jon came to.

"You don't believe me," The King in the North sighs, but this time in understanding. _It sounds crazy._

"I do, actually."

Jon jerks, stunned.

"You didn't before; grumpkins and snarks, you called them, do you remember? You laughed and called it nonsense."

Tyrion nods, walking closer to his northern friend. "It was nonsense, everybody knew it, but Mormont saw them, you saw them and I trust the eyes of an honest man more than I trust what everybody knows."

"How do I convince people that don't know me that an army they don't believe in is coming to kill them all?"

"Good question."

"I _know_ it's a good question, I'm looking for an answer."

"People minds aren't made for problems that large. White walkers, Night Kings, army of the dead. It's almost a relief to confront a comfortable, familiar monster like my sister."

Jon rolls his eyes, having no interest in discussing the war for that damned chair.

"I need to help my people prepare for what's coming. I can't help them from here. I need to mine the glass and then I'd like to leave."

"And you can — if you bend the knee."

 _Son of a whore._

"Everyone said I was a fool for coming south—"

"Probably true, Starks don't fair well in the south."

"—but I thought the worst that could happen is I'll anger my people for being away for a couple of weeks. But instead when I get home, if I ever get to go home, or there's even a home _left to go to_ , I get to tell them I was intercepted and held by the Mad Kings daughter, a foreign invader. Proving everyone right that I'm no more than a Northern fool."

"Children are not their fathers, luckily for all of us and sometimes there's more to foreign invaders and Northern fools than meets the eye. Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros _years ago_ , Jon, but she didn't; instead she stayed were she was and saved hundreds of thousands of people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you're a guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad Kings daughter.

"She protects people from monsters, just as you do. It's why she came here and she's not about to head North to fight an enemy she's never seen on the word of a man she doesn't know after only a few meetings. It's not a reasonable thing to ask. Now the glass on the other hand . . . I would consider that quite a reasonable thing to ask."

Jon let's Tyrion words settle, taking into consideration his praise for his Queen and his silent promise to ask her about the glass.

"Thank you."

Tyrion turns to walk away but stalls.

"How's Sansa," he finally asks, making Jons chest tighten. He'd forgotten — They'd been married.

"Fine," Jon says gruffly and offers no more, not wanting to discuss his sister with him even if he was kind to her, per Sansas own words, but Tyrion ignores the signals.

"It was a sham marriage and unconsummated."

"I didn't ask."

"I'm telling you anyway. I want you to hear it from my lips, I never harmed her or meant her harm. I've never meant harm to anyone in your family. Well, actually I can't say I was very fond of Lady Catelyn Stark or her — me, but still."

Jon grimaces as the mention of his fathers wife.

"Lady Stark wasn't my family. She hated me." Jon shakes his head at himself. Years later and her harsh treatment of him still pains him.

"She hated what you represented."

"My mother."

"Yes, your mother. Whoever she was . . . Your Lord father must have loved her very much. You were a reminder of that love."

Jon turns his back on his sort of friend. _No use thinking about it now, I'll never know who she was._

"I'm glad to hear Sansas alright; she's smarter than she lets on."

Jon turns to Tyrion again.

"She's starting to let on."

 **Mother of Dragons**

"We need to talk about Jon Snow and the dragon glass."

Dany looks up from her book, History and Lore of Westeros Vol CMXCIX by Maester Lionel Tyrell, as Tyrion strides into the council room.

"Our allies have been slain, a large portion of our fleet demolished, and you want to talk about Jon Snow and dragon glass?"

"Which is why I was speaking to Jon Snow, a potential ally."

Dany sighs and looks back to her book, knowing she's not fooling Tyrion that her attention is elsewhere, but still wanting to try.

"And what does The King in the North want with dragon glass? He never did say the importance of it."

Tyrion hops into a chair by his Queens side and pours them both a drink.

"Apparently it can be made into weapons that kill white walkers and their soldiers, or stop them . . . Destroy them? Unsure of the nomenclature, but apparently it has magical properties that white walkers are harmed by, whereas regular steel does nothing."

Dany closes her book and places it on the table.

"And what do you think about this army of the dead? And white walkers and night kings?"

"I'd very much like to believe that Jon Snow is wrong, but a wise man once said, "you should never believe something just because you want to believe it.""

Dany narrows her eyes at the clever Lannister.

"Which wise man said this?"

Tyrion sips his wine deeply. "I don't remember."

Olena Tyrells words about clever men flash through her mind.

"Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?"

Tyrion has the decency to look contrite.

"I'd never do that . . . _to you_."

Dany raises an eyebrow at her Hand but before she can say anything he rushes out his reasoning.

"The reason why I believe Jon Snow is because he's here, even before we were, mining the glass, _himself_ , a self proclaimed king doing his own dirty work."

Dany chews on the thought, and it is a good one. Mining can't be a glamorous endeavor and yet he was doing it anyways. When she first met him on the beach, his face had still been covered in soot, he stunk to high heaven and he looked exhausted; he'd obviously been hard at work. _Even then, dirty and tired, he'd looked handsome_ , Dany reflects now that her anger has abated And she can think objectively of the pretender.

But this situation needs to be looked at from all sides.

"Perhaps the glass has some other purpose? Maybe it's worth more than gold to the right buyer?"

Tyrion chews on the idea for a long moment.

"Possibly . . . But," Tyrion sighs deeply, "Jon Snow is his father son, Bastard or no. He's honest and honorable. I don't believe he's lying about what he . . . Thinks he saw or what the purpose of the glass is."

Tyrion eyes Dany as she struggles with her thoughts.

"You don't have to believe him, Daenerys. Let him mind the glass. If he's wrong it's worthless, you didn't even know it was there, it's nothing to you. Give him something, by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a productive relationship with a possible ally. It'll also keep him occupied while we deal with the task at hand — Casterly Rock."

Dany leans back in her chair a pensive look on her face.

"What was that Ser Davos said? About taking a knife in the heart for his people? Did you notice that?"

Tyrion smirks and refills his cup.

"You must allow them their flights of fancy, its dreary in the North."

Dany isn't so sure and the old mans words continue to summersualt trhough her mind.

Tyrion motions to the book Dany had been reading.

"Brushing up on Westeros, I see. Anything in particular worth noting?"

Dany looks down at the book, feeling a bit silly.

"I wanted to know if anything to do with White Walkers had been documented. There's nothing so far, in this book at least. Just regular, mundane politics. Although," Dany leans forward, a large, girlish smile on her face, "Ser Barrastin is recorded in it. Gods he was a great warrior. I saw it it first hand, of course, but the things he's done . .. amazing. Did you know he single handedly rescued my father when he'd been captured for six months at Duskendale? Had only a single day to do it, and he did. Also he landed the killing blow in the War of the Ninepenny Kings that ended the fifth and final Blackfyre rebellion."

Tyrion smiles indulgently at his Queen.

"I did know that. You were quite fond of him weren't you?"

"Yes," She whispered, "He was kind and _good_. Our first meeting he saved my life. He never lied to me, never used me. He was the one that told me what my father had been. He looked me in the eyes and told me that my enemies didn't lie when they spoke of his cruelty and madness. He was a true knight and a good friend. I miss him."

Daenerys whispered the last part, her throat closing up uncomfortably.

Tyrion lays a gentle hand on Danys clasped hands, surprised at the emotion his fierce queen is displaying.

"I'm glad you got to know him. And your right, he was a true knight. I wish he were alive but It brings me joy he got to serve a monarch deserving of the title before he died. That's not something he'd ever done before."

Dany looks up into Tyrions honest eyes and kind smile.

"Thank you, Tyrion."

"You're welcome, My Queen."

* * *

AN: pleaaaaaaaaaasee revieeeeew.

CMXCIX = 999 in Roman numerals.


	9. Pearls

AN: I own nothing.

Danys will be a lil OOC in this chapter, just go with it it's called fanfic for a reason.

This chapter is actually what inspired this entire story.

* * *

 **Nine: Pearls**

King in the North

Jon tosses and turns in his bed, unable to go back to sleep after having awoken from a nightmare.

He dreamt of Ygritte this night. Of their time together, of their time a part, of her death. Something was wrong with his mind though, each time she was shot with the arrow, Jon would run to her, cradle her like he did that night and then his dream would repeat. Just that part. Watching her get shot, the pain of it, then holding her. Over and over.

And her final words. " _You know nothing, Jon Snow_." She loved saying that to him. It had become a private joke between them for a while.

 _But she was wrong._

He lifts his agonized body out of bed and stretches his stiff muscles before venturing to the window.

He's in time for the sun rise. He admires the beautiful colors in the sky for a while until figures catch his eye down at the beach.

By the sizes of the men and their clothing he knows it's some of the Dothraki, five maybe. He watches, trying to see what they're doing, when they stop and from the middle of them Daenerys becomes visible. She steps out of their protective circle and steps in the ocean, fully clothed.

"What is that bloody woman doing?" Jon asks the empty room.

Jon looks around the room and spies his cloak and debates with himself.

 _She seems to want to be alone, especially if Missandei is not with her, which by the look of it, she isn't. I should leave her be. But then again, Tyrion isn't with her either, nor Varys. . ._

The opportunity to speak to the Queen without others ears, at least not ones that understand the common tongue, is too tempting.

Jon hurriedly dresses himself, armor and furs and all, and rushes down to the beach.

Thankfully no one besides on duty Dothraki guards are around to notice Jon, and even then he has free range of the castle, so he's not stopped and he makes it to the small private beach quickly.

The Dothraki guarding The Queen notice him first and stiffen.

"Khaleesi." One of them says followed by other words Jon didn't even try to catch, making Daenerys turn around from her task.

She's bent at the waist, her arms in the water, the water to her knees. She seems to be searching for something.

She straightens, clutching something in her hands, a rock it looks like, as she catches sight of Jon, water trailing down her forearms and her rather revealing maroon gown.

Jons eyes widen seeing all the skin of her arms and shoulders are bare, her gown without straps of any kind and thin. And cupped to her breasts like a second skin. Jon and his delicate Northern sensibilities are finding it very hard to behave and he quickly finds himself completely engorged.

 _Gods, she's gorgeous. Must be freezing, though. They not be in the North but the winds here are ferocious, the sea freezing and she's so exposed. All that beautiful creamy skin that I known will feel like the softest thing any man could ever touch._

She doesn't say anything, just glares at Jon for interrupting her peace and quiet.

 _Aye, I was right —very angry at being interrupted_.

"Your grace," Jon greets, stopping once he reaches the tide, praying she won't lash out at him.

"Lord Snow."

Daenerys turns her attention to the thing she holds and begins trying to pry it open.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, it's just . . . I'm sorry what is _that_?"

Dany looks back to Jon, then to one of her men and says something in Dothraki. One of them hands her a small knife and she wades over to the curious King in the North.

"An oyster."

She deftly uses the small blade to pry the oyster into two and then starts gently searching through its insides with the tip of her finger, making Jon want to gag, as it's insides looks like mucus.

The Queen finds what she's looking for and lifts it up for them to inspect.

The small item in between her delicate fingers looks familiar but Jon can't place what it is.

"Pearls."

Jon gasps.

"That's where pearls come from?"

Dany smiles softly and nods, then wades further in the sea again. She motions to one of her guards and he holds out two open pouches for her and she puts the small pearl inside one and the oyster into another.

Jon remembers where he saw the small round thing, _pearl_ , before. Sansa once had a pearl necklace. It had been a gift from her grandfather, Lord Tully, for her tenth name day. She'd loved that necklace, bragged to any and all that she could about it. So much so it annoyed Arya to the brink of insanity and the necklace disappeared.

 _Not that Arya ever admitted it but everyone knew._

"What did you need to speak to me about, Lord Snow?"

Jon watches as she continues her search for oysters and their treasure, surprising Jon greatly. He wouldn't have expected her to act so comfortable around him. Not that she has anything to fear, she's surrounded by armed men, glaring at him, just waiting for him to make one wrong move.

"I wanted to talk to you about the white walkers."

Dany turns her back, exposing her long sliver braid and the skin of her middle to upper back, captivating Jon by its graceful curve.

 _Focus_!

"Your grace, I understand your frustrations with me, and why you don't believe me, it sounds like madness, but —"

"—I named them after my brothers and my late husband."

Jon looks on to Daenerys, completely confused.

". . . I'm sorry, you're grace, who are you speaking of?"

She turns to him an oyster in one hand and points behind him with the other.

Jon turns, expecting to see figments of her imagination.

Instead soaring right towards them are three large Dragons.

 _Fucking hell!_

Jon stumbles backwards, sloshing in the water as he watches rapt as they move closer and closer to The castle, circling and diving by one another. He stares at them unable to look away until they disappear somewhere behind Dragonstone and even then it takes a while for Jon to be able to move.

When he has a little control over his own body, Jon turns slowly back to The Queen, his legs threatening to give out under him, his face filled with shock. Jon then thinks back to all the times she or someone speaking to her mentioned Dragons and then it all begins to make sense.

 _She had told me Dragon glass tipped arrows wouldn't harm her children — the same children Euron Greyjoy threatened to enslave and kill. The same children she promised him he'd look upon as they set him a flame._

 _'The brave men didn't kill the Dragons, they rode them'_

 _The Mother of Dragons._

 **The Mother of Dragons**

Daenerys allows herself a small amount of smugness as she watches a wide array of emotions flitter through Jon Snows face. Wonder, shock, fear, etc etc.

 _This man can't keep his thoughts to himself what so ever, it's all there on his face, at all times. Perhaps Tyrion is correct and he's not a liar, he doesn't seem capable of lying._

When he meets Danys eyes again his own shine through with awe.

She has to look away, it's too much. When he looks at her like that, it reminds her how handsome he is. He's only a few inches taller than herself, and not quite as formidable looking as many of the men that surround her on a day to day bases, but he's by no means lacking anything either. She can see, when not wearing his large fur cloak Like he is now, his lean, strong muscles. He moves surely and without fear. And His steel grey eyes show so much of himself.

 _No, this man is not a liar or a madman. He may infuriate me, with his unwillingness to bend the knee, but I can still admit he's honorable._

She walks through the cold, shallow water again, coming closer to him than she ever has before, so close she can smell the heady scent of him. It's too complicated and earthy to describe it as anything other than, _man_. It fuels her neglected libido.

"They loved the depths of the ocean too much to follow along right away."

She can clearly see Jon gulp, his large Adam's apple moving deeply in his throat.

"I - I thought when you spoke of Dragons that . . . "

Dany raises an eyebrow and pries open the oyster in her grip, immediately seeing close to a dozen pearls nestled in it.

"—That I was having fits of delusion of grandeur?"

Jon looks down, ashamed.

"I meant no offense, your grace."

"No offense taken, Lord Snow. People thought Dragons were gone forever, but here they are. . . Perhaps we should all be examining what we _think_ we know."

Jon looks up swiftly.

"You've been talking to Tyrion."

Dany nods, focused on removing the pearls.

"He is my hand."

"He enjoys talking."

"We all enjoy what were good at."

"I don't."

Now it's Danys turn to look up swiftly at the man in front of her, dropping one of the pearls in the water. She watches as he twists back, hoping for another glimpse of her Dragons.

Dany shakes away all the confusing feelings clouding her mind.

"You know I'm not going to let Cersei stay on the Iron Throne." _War. Much safer topic._

Jon turns back to her a new tightness in his eyes.

"I never expected that you would."

"And I haven't changed my mind about which Kingdoms belong to that throne." She reminds, dropping pearls in the outstretched sack.

"I haven't either." Jon replies swiftly with no room left to argue, his eyes hard and fierce.

Daenerys desperately wants to fight him, make him bend to her will or break, but she remembers what her hand said; ' _A potential ally_.' And she remembers her own discoveries; _honest and honorable._

"I will allow you to to mine the dragon glass and forge weapons from it. Any resources or men you need I will provide for you."

Jon lets out a gust of air, his eyes softening, which makes Daenerys belly soften and her womanhood clench unexpectedly.

 _Gods, what is wrong with you? Are you a girl with a crush or a Queen?_

" _Thank you_ ," Jon sighs, his rough voice and Northern accent continuously pleasing to Danys ears.

Jon turns to walk away but stops himself.

"So you believe me, then, about the Night King and the army of the dead?"

He asks it so hopefully, it makes Dany uncomfortable to let him down, but she still turns around and continues on with her task.

"You better get to work, Jon Snow."

* * *

AN: pleeeeeeaaaaase review review review!


	10. Witches Warnings

AN: I own nothing

Replies to reviews:

 **STEVEN** : Bruh . . . It's not a big deal. Promise. That being said Dany has only ever stood next to him while wearing heels, which she's almost always wore even with the Dothraki not just recently, it was Jon they put in heels as the joke. so she would still consider him only a few inches taller than her up to this point.

 **HYPOCRITICAL GUEST REVIEWER THAT SAID JONS NOT AFRIAD OF ANYTHING NOT EVEN DRAGONS** : BRUH . . . ahahahahahaahahhahahhaa thanks for the laugh. I'll crawl out of Danys ass when you crawl out of Jons. #Kloveyabye

I love when **GUEST** reviewers try to act brave. . .

This chapter is for all of you that have left critical reviews logged in. Y'all are cool. Not everyone can relate.

* * *

 **Ten: Witches Warnings**

King in the North

Jon walks as steadily as he can through the crowed obsidian walls, his torch only just barely warning him of something in his path.

He's tripped multiple times, skinned his hands and knees and pride, but ventures further and further into the mystic cave, thirsty to know how far it goes and all it holds.

 _Something you should have done that first day._ He'd been so excited to see the glass encrusted so near the entrance he'd told his men to set up and begin working Immediately, hadn't occurred to him to go as deep as the cave allowed.

After he'd walked easily a quarter mile through the winding maze, his eyes had begun to get used to its surroundings, he's brain growing bored of what it comprehends as more and more of the same —making him almost miss something special.

The King in the North does a double take and doubles back towards the opposite direction than the one he had been headed. He brings the torch close to the wall besides an almost completely obscured opening and sees strange markings.

He eyes the markings, then the small opening, which seems to lead to a pathway so cramped he's not sure even walking side face, he'll fit . . . He calls himself a fool for it but Jon starts to get his hopes up.

He preys to the old gods that he's found something real, something undeniable, that not even a proud Queen can ignore it.

Jon ventures further.

 **Mother of Dragons**

Dany walks aimlessly through her family's castle, examining everything her eyes found interesting, touching as much as her hands could reach. If she has it her way she won't be here much longer and she wants to remember it all.

 _This may not be my home, but it's my history._

She also does her best to empty her mind of war and duty to truly feel her surroundings. If she disappears enough inside of herself she can almost convince herself that she can feel her mothers presence. Almost. _This is where she died, giving birth to me, I should be able to feel her._

Dany knows very little about her mother, besides that she was beautiful and loving.

 _I suppose what with all I know about my cruel father, that will have to be enough._

Dany finds herself walking to her throne room and eyes her houses seat. Such an odd structure her ancestor built, but somehow she can imagine Aegon sitting in the jagged stone throne, his sister-wives by his side. Rheanys perhaps petting a baby dragon, Visneya clutching her sword Dark Sister, as they do as she does now; plan how to take the Seven Kingdoms.

 _But this time it will not be lost to us; it will never be stolen from House Targaryen ever again, this I swear to you._

Then Dany remembers — she's the last dragon. Truly the last one as she can't have children. Feeling like she's been punched in the gut, Dany swallows back bile.

"Familiarizing yourself I see," Tyrion calls out, startling the dragon mother, Varys by his said, "it is beautiful here, in a dingy, terrifying kind of way."

Dany throws a wobbly smirk on her face as she stands before her throne and looks on to her counsel.

"I thought this would feel like a homecoming. Doesn't feel like home."

"We won't stay here for much longer." Tyrion promises.

"Good. I've waited long enough for my my real home."

Varys steps forward.

"Yes, you have, my queen. Luckily for us Cersei controls but half of the Seven Kingdoms. The Lords of Westeros despise her. Even before you arrived they plotted against her, now—"

"—they cry out for their true queen? They drink secret toasts to my health? People used to tell my brother that sort of thing and he was stupid enough to believe them. And I was too weak to try to convince him otherwise."

Varys looks to Daenerys with tight eyes.

"It is true the Lords of Westeros will not like a foreigner invader, no matter the family name, _especially_ you family name, I'm afraid to say. But they don't have to love you, your grace, that's what we want from the people. The Lords need to fear you," Varys smirks, "and they will."

 _Yes they will, lest they wake the Dragon Lady Olena has begged me to be._

Missandei enters quietly, a woman bathed in a red cloak by her side.

"Forgive me, your Grace, but a Red Priestess from Ashai is here to see you." Missandei takes her place by her Queens side as the woman removes her hood.

Dany takes in the beautiful woman, shocked to see one of the Red Gods priestess so far from home.

"Queen Daenerys," she's greets in perfect High Valerian, "I was once a slave; bought and sold, scrounged and branded, it is an honor to meet the breaker of chains."

Daenerys steps forward, curious of her visit. She didn't meet the red priests and priestess in Meereen, but she has known others and to say she knows she needs to proceed with extreme caution is an understatement.

"The Red priests, helped bring peace to Meereen, you are very welcome here. What is your name?"

"I am called Melisandre."

Dany feels Varys near her back.

"She once served another who wanted the Iron Throne. It didn't end well for Stannis Baratheon, did it?" His hatred for the Woman and the magic she practices clear in his every word.

Dany watches with something a kin to amusement as a darkness creeps into the Red Woman's eyes. _The one time Varys doesn't proceed with caution would of course be around someone with her abilities._

"For _your_ king, Robert Baratheon, either."

Varys goes silent and Daenerys turns to him.

"That's right. . . You served my father, until the man that over threw him took the throne."

Varys looks to his Queen, fear creeping into his beady eyes.

"I had a choice, your grace, serve Robert or face the headmans axe."

"But you didn't serve him long, you turned against him."

Varys pauses momentarily, seeing the danger he's in. This is a conversation Daenerys has been waiting for some time to happen. _Too bad it's going to be in front of a stranger._

"Robert was an improvement on your father, to be sure. There have been few rulers in history as cruel as the Mad King. Robert was neither mad nor cruel. He simply had to interest in being king."

"So you took it upon yourself to find a better one?"

Tyrion steps besides Varys.

"Your grace, when I was ready to drink myself into a small coffin, Lord Varys told me about a Queen in the east who—"

Daenerys turns back to Varys, uninterested in the clever way her Hand will defend his friend.

"—Before I came to power—"

"— Your Grace, _please_ , Lord Varys—"

"— Saved your life and brought you to me, yes, lovely story, Lord Tyrion."

 _He's not going to stop me from getting the answers I deserve._

"Before I came to power, you favored my brother," Dany steps toward the eunuch, The Red Woman, momentarily forgotten, "all your spies, your little birds, did they tell you Viserys was cruel, stupid and _weak_? Would those have made for a good King in your learned opinion?"

Varys back stiffens.

"Until your marriage to Khal Drogo, your grace, I knew nothing of you, save your existence and that you were said to be beautiful."

"So you and your friends traded me like a prized horse to the Dothraki—"

"—Which you turned to your advantage."

Danys upper lip stiffens just a tad at his complete lack of empathy for what she endured.

"Who gave the order to kill me?"

Varys breathes deeply. "King Robert."

"Who hired the assassins? Who sent word to Essos to murder Daenerys Targaryen?"

"Your grace, I did what I had to be done to—"

"— To keep _yourself_ alive."

"Lord Varys has proven himself a loyal servant—"

"—Proven himself loyal? Quote the opposite. If he dislikes one monarch he conspires to crown the next one. What kind of _servant_ is that?"

"The kind this realm _needs_ ," Varys says with conviction, no longer filled with fear, despite where his next words may lead him. "Incompetence should not be rewarded with blind allegiance. As long as I have eyes, _I'll use them_. I wasn't born into a great house. I'm from nothing. I was sold as a slave and offered up as an offering—"

"— _Which you turned to your advantage_." Dany quotes making Varys look down self consciously.

"You wish to know where my loyalties lie?" He says to his shoes before glaring into his Queens eyes. "Not with any King or Queen but with the _people_. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win. If you demand blind loyalty, I respect your wishes. Grey Worm can behead me or your Dragons can devour me. But if you let me live, I will serve you well. I will dedicate myself to seeing you on the Iron Throne because _I choose you_. Because I know the people have no better chance than you."

Daenerys stares into the passionate mans eyes, all her questions answered.

"Swear this to me, Lord Varys, if you ever think I'm failing the people, you won't conspire behind my back. You'll look me in the eye as you have done today and tell me how I'm failing them."

Varys lets out a relived breath.

"I swear it, my queen."

"And I swear this, if you ever betray me — I'll burn you alive."

The eunuch stares at the Dragon Queen, stunned for only a moment until he smirks, in turn making his Queen smirk.

"I'd expect nothing less from the Mother of Dragons."

Dany turns back to the Melisandre.

"Well, it seems you've chosen an auspicious day to visit Dragonstone, as we've _just_ decided to pardon those that served the wrong king." Dany says as if the Red woman hadn't just witnessed the disruption between her and her counselor.

"The Lord of Light doesn't have many followers in Westeros, does he?"

"Not yet, but even those who don't worship the Lord, may serve his cause."

"Don't believe her!" A voice calls out from behind the Red Woman.

Melisandre doesn't turn, having only eyes for The Mother of Dragons.

Gendry, Ser Davos and Jon Snow walk in hastily, all three glaring daggers at Melisandres back as if their gaze alone could destroy her, but it was Gendry that spoke.

"You know this woman?" Dany asks, only slightly annoyed at their interruption.

"Aye, she's a _fiend_! Performed witchcraft on me!"

"What are you doing here?" Jon asks, deadly calm but furious. So furious it sent a shiver down Daenerys spine. But it's Ser Davos that makes Dany pause. Dany can only remember ever seeing one other person look so heartbroken and angry at the same time.

Viserys — the day they sold their mothers crown. It was the last thing they had left of their family. It was also the last day Dany ever saw any real, genuine light shine in her brothers eyes ever again.

"I'm here doing my Lords work . . ."

"I made you a promise, the last time I saw you, do you remember?" Jon growls, Ser Davos takes a step closer to the red woman.

"I do." Melisandre turns to the King in the North. "And we are not in the North. You are not King here and I've broken no rules."

She turns back to Daenerys.

"Your Grace—"

"Your Grace," Ser Davos interrupts, "I ask your leave to execute this woman!"

Dany eyes the old man, astounded. _This truly is a bad woman._

"On what chargers?"

"She burned the Princess Shireen alive at the stake. An innocent little girl no older than ten, I realize she was your enemies daughter but—"

Dany turns to the woman, every ounce of fire in her veins shining through hot and unforgiving.

 _So much for being cautious._

"Ser Davos it doesn't matter whose daughter she was. That is a grievous, _monstrous_ thing. Do you deny these chargers?" Danys heart weeps for the old Ser, he obviously loved that girl as if she were his own.

Melisandre looks to the silver queen, disgraced.

"I burned the girl. But I've already been charged for my crime. His grace, has banished me from the North, and if I should return he'll hang me as a murder. As I've said before I'm not in the North and I need to do my Lords work."

"And what is your Lords work?"

"To convince you of the Long Night and the dead that rise in its darkness."

Danys eyes shoot to Jon, her first thought that he set this up; somehow convinced this woman to do his bidding and this is all an elaborate ruse.

But one look into his steel grey eyes and she knows this thought was folly. Her earlier assessment of him was right. This man is not capable of such lies. He shows too much of himself and right now he wants this woman's blood.

"And to murder innocents. She was going to murder me!" Gendry shouts.

"Is this true?"

The Priestess frowns.

"I was going to sacrifice him, yes, until Ser Davos let him go."

 _Hmm, no wonder Ser Davos looked so fear stricken for the boy, another surrogate child._

"Why?"

"For his blood, as the bastard of Robert Baratheon the Kings blood running through his veins would have insured my Kings victory, or so I'd interrupted from the flames at that time. Only death—"

"—may pay for life." Dany finishes, knowing those words all too well.

"And now you come to me." Dany stands toe to toe with the witch, disgusted.

"You have shamed you brothers and sisters, My lady. Too stupid to even know why you needed his blood, why you followed Stannis, to not even mention the torture of children."

Melisandre breaks eye contact first.

"But you realize now, or else you wouldn't be coming to me to fight this war, isn't that right?"

Gendry steps forward, "what are you talking about . . . Your Grace, she needed kings blood, sounds simple enough."

"It wasn't Kings blood her god demanded. It was mine, wasn't it? It was _Targaryen blood."_

Gendry looks to Daenerys as if she's lost her mind.

"That makes no sense, I'm not a Targaryen!"

"You are the son of Robert Baratheon, who was the son of Steffon Baratheon, who was the son of _Rhaelle Targaryen_."

Gendrys deep brown eyes go wide.

"As minuet as it might be, there is still power in the blood we share, cousin."

Daenerys turns to the witch.

"You have done as your God bids and told me about the Long Night. It is only out of respect for your brothers and sisters that helped restore peace to Meereen, that I allow you to leave with your life. But if you ever return to Westeros, I'll see that Ser Davos gets his justice. Now get out."

"We will see each other again, Your Grace."

Melisandre eyes Dany then Jon strangely before hurrying out of the throne room, her parting words like bugs crawling in Danys ears.

 _Unfortunately, she's probably right._

* * *

AN: this is the last pre written chapter I have right now, so updates might be a bit longer than what you've been getting. I'm off to write the next chapter so pleeeeease review, it'll keep me updating as fast as I can.


	11. Proof, Pride, and Captivating Eyes

AN: I own nothing.

* * *

 **Eleven: Proof, Pride and Captivating Eyes.**

Mother of Dragons

Once Melisandre walks out of the throne room, Daenerys moves to a flushed Ser Davos.

"You loved her like your own, didn't you?" She asks softly, speaking of the princess Shireen, the thought of her own lost child not far from her mind.

The old man nods once.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Dany says softly, "it couldn't have been easy sharing a room with the person that murdered your chosen child and not do anything about it."

"Thank you, your Grace, but I've had practice not killing those that ended the lives of my children. I share a room with your Hand everyday." A tear leaks from his eye and she can see he's embarrassed for letting it fall.

Dany looks from the old man to Tyrion who in turn looks sick to his stomach.

"Blackwater Bay?" He asks softly.

"Aye," the grieving father confirms.

Tyrion steps forward but falls back once more.

"I— I'm sorry—"

"You can keep your apologize, My lord. They won't bring back my son. It was a battle. We all did what needed to be done."

"Am I the only one that can see clearly what just happened?" Gendry seethes. "You just let a murderer walk out!"

Dany doesn't look to the boy. It's not his fault, not really, that every glance at him sets her blood boiling.

"I did. I had no other choice."

"How do you figure that?"

"Her fellow priests and Priestess—"

"You let her go because of what _others_ did? They might have helped you, with _whatever_ , but she _didn't_ , she's a monster! _Are you stupid_?"

Dany spins to breathe fire on the boy that dare disrespect her but Jon Snow beats her to it.

He strides up to the lad, leaving only a breathe of space between their enraged faces.

"You've no right to speak to a Queen that way," he hisses. "A Queen that did something difficult because it's what honor dictated, whether you can comprehend what just happened or not is no matter. You'll not speak to her like that again, do you understand?"

Dany looks to Jon, completely stunned. She's not blind. She knows he respects her. She can see the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is looking. Many men have looked at her similarly. But none _exactly_ the way he does.

She doesn't allow herself to dwell on it though, not with everything going on.

"That woman belongs in the depths of hell—"

"Aye," Jon whispers, "she does. But she'll not be going today."

Jon turns to Dany, "I know it's already been an eventful morning but I came here because I need to show you something."

"Show me what?"

"Something very important."

Dany searches his steel eyes for a hint of what it could be but he shows nothing but the same heat that's always in his eyes when he looks at her.

Dany nods and motions for him to lead the way.

* * *

"Your Grace, there's still no word from the unsullied." Missandei whispers as they follow behind Jon Snow, the cold air a balm to her overheated face.

Dany smiles sadly. "He will come back to you." She knows she shouldn't promise such things, but she does anyways, anything to calm her friends mind.

" _He better_."

Dany smiles up at Missandei, touching her arm lightly in a silent show to walk slower as to put more distance between them and the King in the North.

"What happened between you two?" Dany asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Missandei tries to smother it, but a small smile shapes her Cupid bow lips.

"Many things," she breathes.

"Many _things_?" Dany edges, dying to know more.

Missandei smiles wider and ducks her head when Jon Snow looks back at the gossiping women.

"Jon Snow defended you again, your Grace, did you notice?"

Dany breathes in heavily, thinking back to the argument that just took place and put out Missandei is changing the subject.

She did notice the way he stuck up for her when Gendry questioned her decision to allow the witch to leave unharmed; hard not to with how passionately he spoke.

"I did." Dany says, moodily. She doesn't want to like the man. But he continuously does and says things that impress and makeS her respect him more and more.

"I can see why his people elected him," Missandei says with a cautious look to her Queen.

Dany snorts in a very unladylike manner. "Would you like to trade monarchs?"

Missandei smiles and grabs Danys hand.

"No, my queen, I quite enjoy being by your side. All I meant is . . . May I speak freely, Daenerys?"

Dany squeezes her advisors hand. "Of course."

Missandei glances at Jon Snow who stopped when they did but also keeps his distance knowing he is not welcome in their conversation.

"You travelled here knowing that there may come a time when you might need to marry to form an alliance. . . "

"You think I should marry Jon Snow?" Dany asks urgently but not unkindly, her heart beating distractingly fast all of a sudden.

"I think _you should_ think about it. He is a King, he seems a very good man, not to mention," she peeks at him once more where he stands taking to Ser Davos, " _very_ handsome."

Dany ducks her head, not wanting Missandei to see on her face exactly how much Dany agrees with everything she just said.

Once she feels she's schooled her features enough she looks back to her friend who is trying so hard not to grin at her Queens reaction.

"Thank you for your council, Missandei. I'll take your words into consideration."

Missandei bows her head and they walks towards Jon Snow.

"Is everything all right," he asks.

Dany nods conservatively, still warm from the thought of marrying the man in front of her, despite the chilling costal air.

It may be the first time the subject had been brought up, but it's not been far from Danys mind.

It wouldn't be her first choice, marrying for an alliance, the stubbornness in her head and heart not wanting to have to rely on marriage — on a man. Not even one as handsome as Jon Snow. And she especially does not want to share her throne.

The Iron Throne has been her goal, her destiny for as long as she's known the meaning of those words. She learned to thirst for it from Viserys. Not as fanatically at first, as a child all she wanted was a place to call home. But as the years went by, as she learned where they came from and if they worked hard enough what they could go back to, she's been unable to think of much else.

She always knew Viserys would never sit on the Iron Throne. But as she grew older and stronger, she knew she would.

 _And I will._

It's obvious to Dany, Jon Snow earned his station, she dare not deny the weight of that accomplishment. But it doesn't change her goals. To unite the Seven Kingdoms under _her_ rule.

They walk side by side to wherever it is he's taking her and she finds herself wishing he was like Cersei Lannister or Euron Greyjoy. She wishes he was evil, uncaring of the people — a dishonorable fiend, so that she can crush him like all her enemies before him without a second thought.

Except he's not her enemy, not really, even if he refuses to bend the knee. She looks to his profile, first noticing his soft, pillowy lips, then his strong jaw and full beard.

As she examines the King in the North, she thinks back to all he's said to her, the way he's held himself and she berates herself for wishing this good man was evil solely for the fact that it would be more convenient for her to conquer him.

 _How may times have you wished for people to hold themselves to the stantard this man does? Prayed for a more just world? Hoped for a strong, honorable man to stand by your side?_

He may not be by her side, not politically, but she mentally thrashes herself anyways for her shameful hypocrisy.

 _I'm sorry, Jon Snow. You can't read my mind, thank the gods, but I'm sorry I wished you were something other than yourself._

 **King in the North**

Jon had made sure before hand to empty the cave of all men hard at work so that Daenerys could see everything, even the parts that had already been mined.

"I'm sorry you couldn't see it completely untouched, Your Grace, before we started hacking it to bits and pieces."

Jon doesn't look back but he knows she's close, the heat from her torch warming his back. He moves slowly so that she can see where he steps and if she were to need a hand he could provide it immediately. They walk unhurriedly through the long maze Jon had taken great care to memorize, a comfortable silence settled between them.

Jon speeds up slightly when he sees the bend nearing the small entrance, only just large enough for The Children to slip into comfortably, or so Jon assumes, but with a little maneuvering Jon enters in easily enough. He extends a hand to Daenerys to help her in, her small but strong touch thrills him, then _terrifies_ him at how thrilling it feels.

At the end of the small opening they emerge into a new shockingly grand and spacious depth to the cave, where in the middle stands a mountain of obsidian.

Jon hears Daenerys gasps at the sight, the black glass gleaming seductively to the ember glow of their torches. Jon deposits his into a brazer, forgotten long ago, just as the obsidian had been.

"Well, this is it," Jon says unnecessarily, "all will ever need."

Jon gazes at the silver haired beauty as she discovers everything around herself — in awe.

 _It must be shocking to discover such a treasure left behind in her ancestral home._

"There's something else I want to show you, Your Grace."

Daenerys looks to Jon, unsure she can handle anymore surprises, but follows him.

Jon hears her breath hitch and he turns to her to see she's noticed the markings. Many different patterns but the most common giant swirls.

"The Children of the forest made these." He tells her, needing her to understand.

"When?" she breathes.

"Nobody knows for sure, a very long time ago, thousands of years certainly."

Jon watches as Dany studies the wall carvings, her skin translucent in the glow of her fire.

 _Gods, how can anyone so beautiful be real? She can't be mortal._

"They were right here? Standing where we're standing. Before there were Targaryens or Starks or Lannisters. Maybe even before there were men."

"No," Jon corrects her and slowly walks further left and looks to a carving of figures, some large, some small, all holding weapons.

"They were here together — The Children and The First Men."

"Doing what? Fighting each other?"

Jon doesn't say anything, instead he lightly grips her wrist, and guides her further still.

Jon watches her as she studies the definitive painting.

The White Walkers.

The children had even taken the time to illustrate their other worldly blue eyes

"They fought together, against their common enemy. Despite their difference, dispsite their suspicions. _Together_. We need to do the same if we're going to survive, 'cause the enemy is real. It's _always_ been real."

Daenerys looks to him, her eyes finally filled with what Jon had been pining for since the moment they first spoke.

Understanding.

 **Mother of Dragons**

"You believe me." Jon breathes, his eyes like beacons.

Dany looks back to the painting for just a moment, then nods.

"I think I've believed you for a while," she confesses softly, "but I couldn't admit it to myself. I've travelled the world, lived in countless cities, from the lowest slums to the most magnificent castles. I've seen it all: good, evil, witches, faceless men, magic . . . But _this_ . . . This is . . . "

"Unimaginable." Jon finishes for her.

She nods. It still doesn't feel real to her, a painting is a far cry from the real thing, especially If the ghosts that haunt the King in the Norths eyes is anything to go by, but she believes him.

And it terrifies her.

"You say you can't defeat them without my armies . . . And my dragons?"

He licks his lips, "No, I don't think I can." Dany swallows at his soft tone, his utter lack of ego in admitting he needs help impressing her.

Dany steps forward, the light illuminating him to her. She studies his strong face, even looking at her like a man in need, he looks every bit a proud warrior. Maybe it's the thin scar that runs down the side of his right eyebrow or the other thin scar that goes down the middle of his left eyebrow skipping over his eye and onto his cheek.

 _The battles this man has seen . . ._

Gods, she respects him. A part of her, growing larger everyday, wants him. But in her mind it doesn't change the journey she's been through, the goal she has in her heart. For her families name. For herself.

"I will fight for you, I will fight for the North." His eyes widen with relief and it kills her knowing she's about to ruin his hope.

"—When you bend the knee."

The light in his eyes diminishes and she feels like the worst woman in the world.

He looks to her and sighs, obviously disappointed in her but she holds steadfast.

"My people won't accept a southern ruler, not after everything they've been through."

Dany steps forward again, so close to him she can smell his natural scent again. It's musky heat making her throat constrict.

"They will if their King does —" Dany just barely catches herself before her mouth could speak without her brain thinking it over. She'd almost just proposed marriage between them. She'd almost just sold herself to this man, and not just because she wants the North . . . But because she wants him. Never in her life has she felt this way, never wanted so badly to belong to a man, wanted a man to belong to her.

 _Gods, you are a fool! You are a queen at war, not a regular woman with the freedom to fall in love. If your ancestors could see you now, they'd be disgusted in you._

"—. . . They chose you to lead them. They choose you to protect them. Isn't their survival more important than your pride?"

Jon steps up to her, his leather covered chest hard against her softer clothed bossom. "I could ask you the same thing." He growls. "You say you care for the people, that you want what's best for them, but you disregard that _they chose me_. You spent years ending slavery and yet you would force yourself on The North?"

Any soft thought she'd had for Jon Snow in the last few minutes vanish, only to be left with rage. A thousand words find themselves on the tip of her tongue, all of them would be the end of their mutual respect and fragile peace.

She doesn't know how, but she refrains from spewing fire and instead speaks a simple truth.

"You've obviously never seen _real_ slavery."

She walks past him, her heart hardening, lest it shatters instead.

* * *

AN: pleeeeeaaaaaaase reeeeeview


	12. Promises

AN: Thank you for all the reviews to the last chapter, I loved hearing your thoughts!

Sorry this took me a minute but I really don't like how this part was handled in the show AKA the writers keep making Dany say she's gonna burn cities, how many times do they have to use the same friggin line to show the brink she stands on? So I'm changing it, but even though I knew how I wanted it to go I was still stuck for some reason. So yea this was a hard one to write, hope it works tho.

I own nothing.

* * *

 **Twelve: Promises**

King in the North

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Of all the things he could have said to her, he compares her to the monsters she's spent the better part of a decade overthrowing. He asks for her help but then insults her . . . _Real smart, Jon._

 _She's right, I've never seen slavery, never experienced it, to say what I did was like erasing all she's worked for. She may be a conqueror but it was masters she had conquered, not innocent people. She's even refused to sack Kings Landing because that is all who would be hurt: the people._

Even though Jon regrets the master comment, it doesn't change the fact that he will not bend to this woman just because she feels she's entitled. He may have went too far but he won't back down either. He can't, not with what is coming for them all.

 _There has to be a way to find common ground!_

He knows he needs to say something, apologize, but he can't force the words from his lips, feeling too self conscious after his misplaced judgement.

 _Probably best to let her cool down anyways._

Once they reach the shore they're greeted by the sight of three flying dragons, playing over the open water.

Jon stops cold in his tracks, in awe of the sight. For such large imposing beasts they have a tendency to disappear then sneak up upon you. He's brought from his trance as Ser Davos walks to his side, also realizing that Daenerys has strided away and he can see she's already reached the stairs that lead to the castle, Missandei diligently by her side.

"Now _that_ is a bloody terrifying sight," Davos remarks, staring at the mystic beasts.

"Aye, it is. Amazing too."

Davos nods.

"Word around the Castle is Her Grace stepped into a fire with three stone eggs and emerged unburnt with three baby dragons."

Jons eyes go unfocused watching Daenerys's children as he chews on what his friend just told him.

 _Honestly it's not too hard to believe . . . That woman in fire personified. Can warm you with the just being in her presence but if you step too close she'll consume you whole._

Jons eyes focus again as one of the dragons, the biggest one, a black beast with red undertones, swoops into the water and remerges with what looks to be a seal in his jaw. He and his brothers fight over the poor creature, ripping him apart and eating the pieces whole. The sight unsettles him but he can't look away either. Part of Jon never wants to look away, afraid if he does they'll have just been a figment of his imagination. And to see dragons, the most fearsome creatures to have ever existed, creatures the world thought they'd never see again, and not savor them? would be a crime.

That being said there's another part of him that wants to be as far away from them as possible in case they're still hungry. Their mother seems to have a pretty good handle on them, but they're still Dragons for the Gods sake.

 _If only Arya we're here to see this._

A stab of pain, even more agonizing than the real ones he took to his body, sears through Jons heart as he thinks of his sister, his favorite sibling.

 _She was just a child, as strong as she may have been, she was so young and now she's lost. To me, to the world._

Jon turns from the Dragons, now thinking it unfair he look upon them when his sister can't, crime or no.

 _Gods, she had loved the tales of Dragons and their riders. Her favorite had been Visneya who rode Vhagar. Half of the words that left her mouth were about Visneya, 'the greatest famale warrior the world has ever seen.'_

Jon looks to Daenerys retreating figure, barely visible to him anymore and he thinks how much Arya would have liked The Dragon Queen.

"So," Davos whispers still transfixed, "how did it go?"

Jon sighs, not looking forward to relying how he fucked everything up.

"She believes, I saw it in her eyes, but . . . "

"—But she demanded you bend the knee and you refused?" Davos asks without actually asking.

Jon nods and a terrible silence settles over them until he can't take it anymore.

"Should I have? Bent the knee, I mean."

Davos rocks on his toes and chews on his bottom lip, thinking over his Kings words.

"Have your considered you both could get what you want?"

Jon looks to the old smuggler suspicious. _What avenue could possibly lead them to have what they both want?_

"I'm not following you."

Davos looks to Jon as if he were talking to a child, which he may as well be.

"Come now, Jon, you're a _King_. A King to a very powerful nation, The North, with the backing of another powerful territory, The Vale. Daenerys is a _Queen_ . . . Well, we've already heard her titles—"

"— Davos what are you getting at?"

"You know what I'm getting at Jon. Marriage. If you — a King, and her — a Queen, won't bend to one another than the safest way to form an alliance would be to marry."

Jon, the humble bastard he is, finds himself in shock.

 _Marriage_? _Between me and_ Daenerys Targaryen _? How would that be happen? How in the Seven Hells is it possible that I've spent my entire life practically hidden away, unwanted and mocked, only to end up discussing the possibility of marrying one of the most powerful women, hell person in general, this world has seen since her own ancestor Aegon the Conqueror was alive?_

Not to mention the most beautiful woman he's ever laid his eyes on.

He loved another once, but even she didn't set his heart into the flurry this Dragon mother does. Jon has thought on it long and hard, trying to figure out how this could be possible. His time with Ygritte was some of the best of his life and he knows he _truly_ did love her but even the memory of falling for her, making love to her and losing her does not compare to the thought of falling for Daenerys, something Jon fears he does more and more of each day. It's pales in comparison to mere fantasies that have dominated his mind of what it would be like to lie with Daenerys, and the thought of losing her . . . Jon can't even think it, it being the most confusing feelings of them all.

 _Madness, utter madness._

But then another scary thought hits him.

Assuming they defeat the Night King and his army and she wins against Cersei . . . A union between them would make him King to her Queen of the Iron Throne.

 _Or would it be King Consort?_ _Either way it's a mighty station a bastard, even the bastard of Eddard Stark, like me has no business ever dreaming of._

And a position Jon doesn't want.

He wants nothing to do with that damned chair, the reason for his fathers demise.

He just wants the North to be safe, his family to be happy and his people to prosper.

 _And her —_ He thinks desperately.

 _Gods, you really are touched! No matter your silly infatuation, she's not meant for you. You may be a king, but you're still a bastard._

Tyrion words echo in his mind.

" _Never forget what you are._ " It's not the way he meant them at the time, but it's still wise counsel.

"I am a bastard, Davos," Jon sighs, "King or no, Queen Daenerys will not end up married to a Snow, or a River, or a Sand."

 _She'll be Queen_ , Jon has no doubt. _But it won't be for long if she doesn't see reason and join with me in fighting the true enemy. And it certainly won't be with a bastard as her husband._

 _Either way I'll be in the North, where I belong — fighting the Great War, with or without her._

Davos opens his mouth to say something, undoubtedly to ask Jon to reconsider the idea, but instead they're both taken off guard as an uproar begins — coming from the Dothraki Soliders, thousands of them, storming the once quite beach.

"What they bloody hell is going on?"

Jon watches as most of them begin collecting transport boats obviously to be used to board the ships coming from around a bend in the ever present Stone cliffs. The rest are herding horses, obviously waiting to board as well.

"Something not good." Jon says distractedly watching the scene unfold in front of him.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Daenerys stride out of the castle to make the long trek of stairs. He can't make out anything specific about her but he knows it's her and he knows she's in a hurry.

He begins making his way through the overly excited Dothraki screamers to her, determined to seek answers.

 **Mother of Dragons**

Dany takes a few deep breathes as she slides on her sturdiest gloves, preparing herself for what is to come.

When she'd left Jon Snow standing on the beach, she'd been determined to storm her castle in search for her advisors to go over their game plan again. Anything to shift focus from what had just transpired in that damned cave.

She couldn't believe he'd — _you know what? It doesn't matter. His opinion of you doesn't matter. You know what happened. You know you're not like the masters. That will just have to be enough._ Still, the knowledge that Jon Snow thinks so lowly of her stings. Badly.

 _To not even mention the army of the dead . . ._

It wasn't long before she encountered her Council but before she could say a word, she'd known something was terribly wrong by the looks on their faces.

And terribly wrong it is.

The Unsullied took Casterly Rock, no problem. No problem because the Lannister forces hadn't been there. No, instead they had already marched on Highgarden.

 _House Tyrell is no more and I'm losing the war._

Failure is not foreign to her, but failure on this grand of scale? This is something she's never experienced. It sets her blood boiling as much as it humbles her.

But she won't continue to fail for long, she promises herself, making sure her outfit is secure in every way.

"Your grace?"

Dany turns to see Missandei standing before her wringing her hands. She immediately strides to her friend and envelops the taller woman in a tight hug.

"Don't fear for me, Missandei," she whispers into her curly hair.

"Whom should I fear for then?"

Dany moves back slightly so that they can look into each others eyes.

"My enemies."

"I think I shall pray they have _quick_ deaths, but that they die, the opposite of fearing _for_ them, I'm afraid."

Dany smiles at the showing of Missandeis heart; gentle and fierce at the same time.

Dany disengages from her and moves quickly to the drawer by her bedside and comes out with a present for her closest friend, a gift Dany has been working on for while.

"I've never taken stock in gods, saw no use for them, but even I have thanked them as often as it occurs to me to do so, that you are by my side, Missandei, _my sister_."

A pure white pearl necklace dangles between Danys hands for Missandei to see, to which her eyes widen and begin to tear up.

Viserys may have been stupid and cruel, but she thanks him now for his stories of Dragonstones, her birthplace and the place he'd been crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms at the tender age of five after they'd been informed their brother had been defeated, his children murdered and their father betrayed. He'd told her of the oysters and their pearls, and she finds a small bit of joy that he's done her and now Missandei, this gentle deed.

"This necklace," Dany says, hooking it to Missandeis elegant neck while she does so, "is a promise to you. I vow before you now, that life will not always be this way. You'll not always be subjected to war and danger. One day, you'll be truly free."

Missandei touches the gift gently, tears falling from her eyes.

"My queen," she whispers, "its beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Dany smiles, her own eyes tearing up.

"I'm glad you like it."

"I do, but I have nothing for you," She cries.

Dany shakes her head and smiles gently.

"It is not you that subjects me to war, Missandei."

Missandei hugs her Queen, tighter than even before.

"I will cherish it for all of my life, and as for your vow, I thank you for it, but I'm exactly where I want to be. I am already free, I have been since the moment I first stood by your side. And I vow to you, I'll never leave your side."

They squeeze each other tighter and say no more.

There's no need.

* * *

Dany revels in the wind that whips her long, but secure braid behind her as she stands upon her favorite cliff and looks down to her men preparing for battle.

If she's being honest with herself this couldn't have happened at a better time, the Dothraki have become restless, even more so than herself, and the chance to ride and kill has uplifted their spirits greatly.

Well some of them. She's only taking five thousand compared to the sixty that ride at her back.

Those that aren't coming, decided upon by the five personal men she has at her back at all times — her chosen commanders, the blood of her blood — are less than pleased. It'll take a lot more than common promises of war to come to sooth their anger at being left behind and she does not look forward to their ire

"Your grace!"

 _Gods, this infuriating man is everywhere. A moment of peace before I have to shed blood was all I wanted, not another fight before I charge into battle._

"Yes, Jon Snow?" She says, clearly annoyed.

"What's happening? Why are the Dothraki boarding ships?"

She turns to the handsome Northerner, currently looking like the world is going to end.

"I fail to see how what my men do is any concern of yours."

Jons eyes tighten, unable to argue but still wanting to know what's going on.

"I'm sorry if I've offended, your grace, it's just . . ."

Dany watches as he stumbles for something to say, some way to convince her to trust him with the knowledge he wants to know.

She tells herself she's only taking pity on the King in the North, but she knows she decides to tell him what happened because she likes talking to him, even after the words shared in the cave.

"I've lost house Tyrell. Cersei saw our next step, even before we did, and marched her army away from her ancestral seat and while I was seizing a worthless rock she ended House Tyrell and therefore my last ally."

Jon looks from her to the Dothraki fear stricken.

"And now you're marching on the Capital? On Kings Landing?"

"Yes."

"So what, you don't care anymore if innocents die?" He spits, disgusted.

"My sentiments exactly!" Tyrion bellows as best he can, stepping up behind Jon Snow, Davos and Varys following close behind.

Daenerys eyes narrow.

"And why shouldn't I attack Kings Landing?" Dany turns to Jon, "To fight your war? My enemies are in the Red Keep!"

"I advise we take a step back and look at this logically," Tyrion begs, "we should wait, we still have the largest army —"

"—Who won't be able to eat because Cersei has now seized all the food from The Reach!"

"Call Grey Worm and the Unsullied back, we still have enough ships to carry the Dothraki to the Mainland. Commit to the blockade of Kings Landing. This is still the right plan."

"The right plan? Your strategy lost lost us Dorne, The Iron Islands and The Reach. Cersei has been one step ahead of you this entire time and yet you won't even consider that maybe just maybe you're wrong! A wise man would set aside his pride when he's command fails!"

Dany watches as the scared man looks to her uncomfortably.

"If I have underestimated our enemies—"

This makes Dany explode.

"Our enemies? You're family you mean!"

Jon steps forward and by the look on his own scared face he knows he's speaking out of place, but he'll do it anyways, because it's what right.

"So you'll lay siege to the city and burn everything in sight is that it?" He bellows.

"No, that is not it." Everyone jerks, stunned, but it's Tyrion that steps forward.

"Wait . . . I thought—"

"Once again you thought wrong." She hisses, "You all assumed I'd destroy a city, the city my ancestors built, innocents and all! You all look at me and see my father no matter the words of fealty," she looks from her advisers to Jon, "or begging me to help and yet in all of your eyes I'm no better than the Mad King, no matter what I do. Fine. Continue waiting for me to snap, to go mad, I don't care. While you're doing that, I'm going to do what I've always done. Rain fire and blood on my _enemies_."

Dany speaks only to Varys now.

"You said Cerseis armies are marching back to Kings Landing now?"

Varys nods, looking to his Queen with new admiration.

"Good. I'll intercept them before they can reach the gate."

"Your grace, I'm sorry, truly sorry, for assuming the worst, but we discussed this it's too dangerous for yo—"

"—What kind of Queen would I be if I'm not willing to risk my life to fight for the Kingdoms I call mine?"

"A smart one!"

She walks closer to her hand, "Your schemes were _smart_. _And they failed_. Before you came along I took what I wanted with force. I fought for what was right and it worked _every_ time. I wanted my dragons, I used fire and I got my dragons. I wanted an army, I used fire, twice, and I got my army. I wanted to put an end to slavers bay, _I used fire_ and slavers bay is no more. I am a _dragon_ and I _will_ fight like one. Enough with the clever plans."

Jon strides forward, body tense and eyes wild.

"You're going to ride into battle?" He ask, urgently. Dany almost took offense, as if he meant the idea silly of a woman, but one look into his eyes says something different. Her being a woman isn't what appalled him. Dany asks herself fleetingly if she's as transparent with her attraction to him as he is with his.

From behind her she hears Drogon screech and fly straight up from the side of the cliff and into view. He soars directly up for sometime, enthralling everyone but Jon. Jons eyes are glued to her, even when Drogon lands heavily at her back, his eyes widening further as he realizes just how spot on his words were.

"I am."

Daenerys turns on her heel and strides confidently to her child.

He bends his head low and she places a gently kiss on his snout, his warm flesh a balm to her heart. He hums, showing his own affection for his mother and shifts his large clawed paw for her to climb, he head following her as she mounts him to make sure she doesn't fall.

She doesn't look back as Drogon turns and runs and takes flight.

She focuses instead on what lays ahead.

Her first Victory in Westeros.

* * *

AN: so sorry this took me a minute, the battle will be next and I'm so excited for you to read the plans I have for it!

so so,e reviewers love correcting me and before anyone does yes, in the books it's said Viserys was Seven when he was crowned king at DS, but in the show 1.06 they said he was five since I'm going off show ages, I made him five.

PLEASE REVIEW


	13. Like a Dream

AN: thank you soooo much to all that reviewed it means so much to me. I adore reading your thoughts, even those that don't like the story or grow tired of it, idk it's just so interesting to see thoughts on my writing.

 **ANSWERING SOME REVIEWS** :

 **RILEY1506106** : Yeah . . . Sorry no. It's only gonna progress more and more, that shits fated and outside of my power tbh. #Jonerys5ever

 **EYES LIKE LIQUID FIRE** : . . . I think you and I share one mind. I agree with most everything you said, these were all thoughts I was having when watching the show. There are some things I'm realizing that happen in the battle that, once again you are totally right about, not the smartest, but I'm going to have to keep similar to fuel what I have in mind, and hopefully I have explained why well in the chapter, it just fits well I think. I do have to disagree on the Dragons effect on the city aspect of your review though, Drogon was still a yougen when he went wild and out on Astapor, whereas now if he were to ransack a city he's capable of doing *A lot* more damage, i don't think it would be as simple as picking and choosing where to burn and everything else will be left unharmed, Dragons are free beasts (especially Viserion and Rheagal since they don't have riders guiding them) and their fire spreads quickly, idk I don't think that aspect would be so simple. Loved your review and hope you enjoy the chapter.

 **GINAR369** : totally see where you're coming from, thats why I write Jons POV the way I do, and his thought process when he refuses to bend the knee, but at the same time what kind of ruler would Dany be if she commanded something and when those she commanded are like nah and she be like oh alright never mind . . . Yeah that's not a ruler that rules for long. She wouldn't be where she is now with that type of attitude, neither would Jon btw.

 **FIRE1** : when I was watching the show I had thought I'd wanted Jon to go to the battle as well and I'd planned for him too but as I was writing I couldn't come up with a plausible reason why he would go, other than to see how wicked cool Dany is. Now I'm as fangirly over Dany as they come but even I'm not willing to fan service her in a way like that. He's not loyal to her, not a part of her army, him being there would send the message to Cersei that Dany has control over or at the very least is aligned with the North, which she doesn't and isn't, it just makes no sense, he has no place in the battle. Hope you enjoy the chapter anyways.

 **BUTCH BETH** : I'm glad you're enjoying the story, but sorry no, this a Jonerys fic through and through. If you think Jon has nothing to offer Dany in my story then I'll work harder on my writings short comings, because he is of great importance, obviously, and I love their love story. Also Yara wasn't her first supporter in any sense, honestly she's hardly a true supporter, such as the Unsullied or the Dothraki who are really the only ones that truly serve her unselfishly, and solely because they want to. Everyone else, although a point could be made for Varys and *maybe* Tyrion, initially goes to her cause they need her and being loyal to her is beneficial for them. Yara only went to Dany because she needed Danys help to defeat Euron, not because she believes Dany truly deserves fealty and she was dying to pledge her support to her cause. If Cersei, or anyone in power really, could have offered her the same deal as Dany she would have gone to them. Also I don't know of what good advice Yara gave her, Yara told her to sack Kings Landing, killing thousands of innocents in the process. I don't think that's wise counsel. Although I'm not opposed to maybe writing a one shot with a female lover, if you or anyone else are interested in reading that, but it wont be with Yara, I don't care for her character at all.

Alright everyone sorry that was so long, here's the chapter.

Buckle up it's a looooong one.

* * *

 **Thirteen: Like a Dream**

Mother of Dragons

Dany finds herself cursing her advisors as she and Drogon soar through the air, the wind as unforgiving as her heart for her enemies. She's far ahead of her ships and has no other distractions to keep her from her enraged thoughts.

 _Tyrion, as brilliant as he is, as sound as his plans had seemed, has fucked us. The series of events that leads me to now have really shined a light on my Hands strategy proficiency. He'd done such a good job of convincing me that I need him by my side, educating me on Westeros and its people, how to maneuver the politics of being a Queen in this land, and I still believe that I do need him for those reasons. In that aspect he'll come in handy, but I'll think twice before I ever accept war council from him ever again. I know he was successful in his planning of Blackwater Bay, but apparently his talent in warfare extends only to defense._

Dany closes her eyes and works to calm herself down. She knows she needs a clear head, she has only the length of this ride to decide how to proceed.

As she soothes her mind, a warmth spreads through her body and she knows it's Drogon. The connection between a dragon and His rider is a unique bond, one so deep and consuming they both become an extension of one another. She grew up with all the stories but to actually feel it, is to see the sun after being blind your entire life.

She accepts Drogons presence, his soul, into hers and they become one.

Dany always found it silly when the stories recited that a person can only ride one dragon. A dragon can have many riders, as they live far beyond their human counterparts, but the rider can only have one steed. She would think to herself what happens if for some reason the rider needed to escape but their dragon was somewhere else? Or dead? Is that person just stuck? What would happen if they tried to ride another? Would they be repealed by some invisible force? Would the dragon reject them? Leave them for dead? _Would my other children do that?_ She never understood.

Until now.

She still doesn't know what would happen if she were to attempt to ride another dragon, but she does understand now why it's not done.

 _The connection on a humans behalf can't be replicated with another, our minds couldn't handle it. Dragons on the other hand — fierce, otherworldly creatures can make room for many lesser beings than it, but a human can only host one miracle._

Once Drogons presence settles comfortably in her psyche she thinks of what to do next.

Per Varys — Cerseis men were on the march from Highgarden back to the capital but moving slowly as the weight of their conquest disables them from traveling with great haste. After they'd defeated the Tyrell Army they took as much food as their wagons could hold. As well as a fortune in gold. If Varys little birds are correct they left behind around a thousand men at Highgarden to hold the castle, but more importantly the remaining stocks. A thousand men watching over live stock and grain seems a bit extreme to Dany, they're at war with a woman they know to have a large army and dragons, For the gods sake. They would only leave that many men if there was a great deal left to be harvested. _A great deal they don't want me to have._

Dany considers taking a detour and checking out Highgarden but dismisses the thought quickly. _There's no time for that_ , she needs to intercept the bulk of the Usurpers force before they enter the capital and even with her excellent sense of direction, she can't afford to get lost.

 _I'll go after the battle and take the Castle and remaining food. It all depends on the state of my hoard afterwards whether I go there Immediately or later with fresh men._

Dany looks over her shoulder to see if by chance she can spot her ships carrying her hoard but she's flown too far ahead.

Thinking of her army she then questions if it wouldn't be better to just use Drogon to completely burn every Lannister soldier and keep her army in waiting just in case.

 _That way no man loyal to me would lose their life and things could be over quickly._

Once again Dany argues the other side of the proposed strategy.

 _For that to work the soldiers would have to be lined up nice and neat and stay that way. As soon as they scatter I won't be able to get all of them and then how would I capture those still alive? They wouldn't have wasted their energy battling against the Dothraki, the adrenaline rushing through them from seeing Drogon could be all they need to flee quickly._

 _Now some could still escape even if they battle the Dothraki, But not as many, and then they would probably go to their pretender and tell her what they saw. Tell her the horrors of facing a mixture of Dragons and the greatest killers the world has ever created_. Dany likes the thought of that, of Cersei knowing what she's facing, knowing how lost she is in this war.

And finally her blood riders are prepared for a battle — thirsting for one.

She dare not deprive them after they've already been promised blood and glory.

 _So I will use my Dothraki straight away._

But that brings about another problem.

 _If the Lannister forces are smart they'll flee. Only a fool would face Dothraki in an open battle field, let alone a dragon. How will I control who Drogon and I burn?_

There's no doubt in her mind some of her men well unfortunately be caught in her crossfire no matter what, there's no helping it, no matter the dexterity that Drogon is capable of when aiming his flame, men — hers and Cerseis alike, will burn.

 _This_ — she has no answer to as she can't predict how'll they'll react. It's impossible to know whether they'll stand and fight or flee. _These men have never faced Dothraki, and even though I'm sure their reputations proceed them, hearing is one thing — experiencing a whole other. It will depend on what their Commander says and if they're loyal to him._

Tyrions words echo through her mind.

 _"The Lannister army is the same army my father built."_

 _And they follow Tywin Lannisters son._

Dany snorts to herself as she realizes her strategy in using Drogon all depends on how The Kingslayer decides to proceed.

Fight or flee?

 **King in the North**

 _For as long as I live the image of Daenerys Targaryen mounting and flying away on her Dragon will be etched into my mind. I may forget everything I've ever known, my own name even, but that I will never forget. I'll also never forgive myself for letting her ride into battle without me coming as well to protect her._

 _Oh, yeah, 'cause you could do better job of it than a bloody dragon!_

"What do you think of her," Davos asks, ripping Jon from his thoughts and focuses again as they continue down the obnoxious number of steps.

"Who?"

Jon knows who he's talking about, but is not in the mood to discuss, Daenerys. _I think of her way too much as it is._

Davos sighs reproachingly, not in the mood for games.

"I believe you know of whom I speak."

It's Jons turn to sigh and looks everywhere but at his Hand.

 _I think she's the most incredible woman I've ever laid my eyes on. I think she's the epitome of beauty and grace and strength. I contstantly think of all the ways I want to take her and make her mine — body and heart. I think I'm in love with her._

"I think she has a good heart." _Safe enough answer._

"A good heart," Davos chuckles, "Aye, I've noticed you staring at her _good heart_."

 _Seven hells. I know I've not been discreet, pretty much since I first laid eyes on her, but talking about it makes my skin feel like it's breaking out in hives._

"There's no time for that . . ." _Yes, Jon, good. Do what you've been berating yourself of not doing since you laid eyes on the Dragon Queen — focus on the enemy trying to end all human life._ " . . . I saw the Night King, Davos, I looked into his eyes as he lifted his arms and thousands of dead rose with them."

The memory sends a chill down Jons spine, thoughts of his lust for Daenerys tampered.

"How many men do we have in the North ready to fight? 10,000? Less?"

" _Fewer_." Davos remarks distractedly.

 _What? Did the old sod just correct my grammar?_

"It's not enough," Jon groans throatily.

"Aye, you're right, the only way we'll stand a chance is if you convince her Majesty to fight along side us —"

"—Which she won't do." Jon interrupts bitterly. For all the ways Daenerys makes him fall for her, she equally frustrates him. He sees where she's coming from, he really does, if she moves her armies North, Cersei will take back the parts of the country she doesn't currently occupy. It doesn't change the fact that Daenerys ignoring him is foolish and will be the end of them all.

"She won't, because you've offered her nothing. You won't bend and you won't listen to me."

Jon looks puzzled to the old smuggler.

"Listen to you about what?"

Davos rolls his eyes.

"Bloody hells, Jon, about propositioning a union between you two."

Jon looks away embarrassed. He'd forgotten about that. It only been earlier today but the idea had seemed so . . . _Impossible_ , he hadn't given it another thought. Jon has no wish to talk about this again, to talk about how his bastard blood is unworthy, his feelings of pure inferiority.

"You talk about marriage more than an old maid, you know that?"

Davos can see the war in his kings eyes and chooses not to press that matter again . . . For now. Instead he sighs and continues walking until he catches sight of Missandei

"Speaking of good hearts," he says to only Jon but then raises his voice to announce their presence, "Missandei of Naath."

The dark beauty turns from staring out to the ocean and smiles, brushing some of her wild curls from her eyes as she does so.

"Ser Davos, Lord Snow."

" _King_ Snow," Davos corrects, "No, that doesn't sound right . . . King _Jon_?" Davos turns to Jon.

"It doesn't matter," Jon sighs, having not even caught the fact that he wasn't regarded by his title in the first place.

Missandei looks to Jon, her big brown eyes searching.

"Forgive me, but may I ask a question?"

Jon smiles kindly, "of course."

"The White Walkers you speak of . . . How were they created? Or were they born?"

Jon looks awkwardly to Daenerys friend.

"They were created, of that I'm sure, but I'm afraid I don't know how, it's been thousands of years, as far as I know there's no information on how or why they came to be. And those that did know at one point are all gone now."

Missandei tilts her head, her eyes drifting away from Jon.

"It's strange how important information like that seems to scatter with the ages. These things . . . They remind me of the monsters that, legend says, tormented Essos so long ago."

Both Jon and Davos step closer to Missandei, their interest peaked.

"Naath dealt with a similar enemy," Jon asks urgently.

Missandei focuses again on the King in the North.

"Sort of, yes. I'm not even sure if the legends are true, but I used to share a chamber with other girls in Astaphor, one was from my home and she spoke of monsters pale as Snow with an insatiable thirst for human blood that once terrorized all of the East. It was said that when they drank upon our life's essence, they took our souls into themselves, as they had none. But our souls could not live in their perverted darkness so they had to take as many as they could, as much as they could. If they went without they weathered away to dust. They too were undead and nearly invincible, no conscious, no morals, only a thirst for what they could not truly have themselves."

Jon looks on stunned, as Missandei talks of monsters that Jon willfully hope didn't actually exist.

"Gods . . . That sounds bloody _unnatural_ , not that the Wights aren't, but . . . Gods," Davos shivers.

Jon nods along, understanding what his friend is saying. It sounds like those things killed out of pleasure and masochistic desperation — the White Walkers just kill mindlessly.

"Aye, unnatural indeed," Jon breathes, "The White Walkers are like the sun rising in the West and setting in the East . . . Like something only a curse can conjure. That sounds like . . . the Seven Hells."

 _To have your soul stolen . . . Un-fucking-natural._

"How were they defeated," Jon asks.

Missandei squints trying to think back to the tales she'd been told.

"I'm afraid I don't know, but If memory serves me right there's an old saying in Essos that supposedly derived from their extinction. When soldiers speak of defeating their enemies they'll say," She says something in what Jon presumes is High Valerian, "Which roughly translates to, ' _The heart of the beast is weakest'_."

A disturbing silence over takes the three individuals, fear momentarily transforming them all into comrades.

They all shuffle uncomfortably and Jon breaks the silence with the first thing that came to his mind.

"So why did you leave your homeland?"

Missandeis smile sadly and Jon grows weary of her answer.

"I was stolen by slavers when I was very young."

Jon curses himself. _Gods, be damned, She was a slave, she's one of the people Tyrion advised me to seek out, how could I have not realized?_

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Missandei inclines her head showing she took no offense.

"If I may," Davos coughs out, "how did a slave girl come to advise Daenerys Targaryen?"

Missandei smiles slightly, this time with joy.

"She bought me from my master and set me free."

A warmth spreads through Jons core as well as guilt. _I compared her to those monsters when she's the exact opposite . . . I disgraced her and haven't even told her I'm sorry yet. I might never get the chance, seeing as she's probably battling right this moment and could die. Even with her Dothraki and Drogon, she's not invincible, it would take only one arrow and her fire could be extinguished!_

The thought rocks Jon, making bile rise in his throat.

"Ahh," Davos hums appreciatively, "that was good of her, of course you _serve her_ now."

Jon eyes Davos, not liking his tone, Jon had the same tone, his thoughts drifted to the same place in the cave and it's now one of his greatest regrets.

Missandei eyes Davos as well. The first time she's looked at the old crabber with anything other than gentleness.

"Yes, I do, as a _free_ woman." Her tone leaves no room for argument and Jon admires her conviction.

Davos doesn't let it drop though, angering Jon further.

"And if you wanted to sail home to Naath tomorrow . . ."

"Queen Daenerys would give me a ship and wish me good fortune."

"You believe that?" Davos doesn't speak unkindly but still not respectfully to Missandeis Queen.

"I _know_ it," Missandei bites out, "The first words she spoke to me after she bought me were to ask if I had any family left that I would return to if I had the choice. I made my choice. All of us who followed her from Essos, we believe in her. She's not our queen because she's the daughter of some king we never knew. She's the queen we chose. We all know she is going to make this world a better place." As Missandei finishes her humbling speech she begins to unconsciously toy with something around her neck.

Jon realizes with a start she's wearing a necklace under her high collar. A necklace made of pearls.

He'd wondered why Daenerys had been fishing for the pearls, what they're purpose were, especially as he hadn't seen her wearing them.

 _Because they weren't for her. They were for her friend._

Jon is immediately taken back in time when he'd obsessively hovered over Winterfells Smith when he'd been crafting Aryas sword, Needle.

 _This is not just Daenerys friend, this is her sister._

Jons eyes are drawn from the necklace to the water visible behind Missandei and he rushes forward to The stone barrier, anger rushing through him.

"Is that a Greyjoy ship?"

 **Kingslayer**

Jamie Lannister wishes, and not for the first time on this expedition, that he could bang his head against a stone and knock himself out, anything to not have to listen to Ser Bronn of the Blackwater any longer.

" —You fucking Lannisters gab on and on about the debts you always repay, but here I stand, a faithful servant, owed a debt still withstanding! After _all_ this time!"

"I've just given you _a lot_ of money," Jamie snaps, glancing at the saddle bag attached to his horse, filled with gold, "how can you complain you haven't been payed?"

"It's not a _castle_."

"You'll get your castle, I promise, once the war is over."

"Highgarden is available, last time I checked."

"You don't want Highgarden," Jamie sighs.

"I beg to differ."

"We're at war, how do you expect to hold it? The day after you move in, Daenerys Targaryen will rain dragon fire upon it and you in it. Besides think of the upkeep, the more you own, the more it weighs you down."

"Is that why you're so fucking glum? You've just won the biggest prize in the world and yet you look like you've walked over your own grave. What do you have to be upset about? Queen of Thrones give you one last prick in the balls? Come on, you can tell me, I'll take it to _your_ grave."

Jamie chuckles, his somber thoughts momentarily forgotten. But quick to reappear.

"I'll save my confession for the High Septon and as for the gold it all belongs to the Iron bank now. See we do pay our debts."

"Just not to _me_. And there is no more high septon, Your sister saw to that."

A flash of guilt slashes through The Kingslayer, not wanting to be reminded of his loves evil doing.

"No there isn't, is there," he says matter of factly, staring straight ahead at his slow moving troops.

"Now back to High—"

"It's not going to happen." Jamie's tone is clear. That this is the end of that conversation.

He never wants to hear the word Highgarden ever again.

 _If I had my way that damned place would be destroyed and the earth salted._

Though their victory had been easy and swift, as these things go, it didnt make what happen settle any easier in Jamie's mind. He'd felt remorseful eliminating yet another house, enemy or no, but couldn't go against his duty, his kin.

But now . . . Now that he knows Olena Tyrell, the woman he had just shown mercy to, murdered his son, Jamie feels sick to his stomach for a whole new reason.

 _"Tell her it was me, I want her to know."_

The reason for this act of treason was obvious. Joffery was a monster, his and Cerseis punishment from the gods for lying with one another. It doesn't take a wise man to see why she couldn't let her beloved granddaughter stay married to him.

But despite what Joffery was, how Truly vile, he was still Jamies son and he'd loved him. Even if it had been hard to most of the time.

Now, he has no children left. _Never had them to begin with really_. They didn't call him father, didn't even know, except for Mrycella, but even then she'd died just seconds later after they'd embraced for the first time in mutual knowledge they were daughter and sire.

 _I should have let Cersei torture the ancient hag. Instead I showed mercy and she had turned her own death in her favor and as Bronn said, pricked me in the balls one last time. The gods are truly cruel._

Jamie calls for yet another rest period as they come across the beginning of Blackwater. They're close to Kingslanding but the horses are showing strain and need to be properly watered. A tedious task but one that needs to be done.

Randyll Tarly and his son gallop towards Ser Jamie, the fathers expression stern like usual. The boys one of deep, troubled thought.

"We need to get the last of these wagons over The Blackriver Rush before nightfall. If the head of the line is ambushed the tail will never be able to reinforce in time."

"Yes, we are stretched a bit thin," Jamie sighs.

"The gold make it?" Jamie asks slightly waving his golden hand until he realized what he was doing and became self conscious.

"Yes, My Lord, it's well on its way to The Red Keep."

"How many wagons and men remain?"

"Near a hundred Wagons and two thousand men."

It makes Jamie uncomfortable how slow this process has been but he says nothing knowing all that could be done, is being done.

"With you permission, My Lord, I'll start flogging stragglers as a marked effort of mobility."

Disgust surges through Jamie. _Gods, this is a hard son of a bitch._

"Let's give them fair warning, first. These men fought hard at Highgarden."

Randyll Tarly rolls his eyes but nods and gallops away, unbeknownst to his son, who's thoughts still seem to plague him.

"Uh, Rickon, is it?"

The young man jerks to awareness and clears his throat.

" _Dickon_ , My Lord."

Bronn laughs heartily, much to the discomfit of the lad. Even Jamie has trouble keeping a straight face, but does a better job of it than the cutthroat turned Knight.

"Yes, my apologies, Dickon." Bronn laughs some more.

"I've been told you fought bravely at Highgarden, your first battle?"

Dickon nods solemnly, visibly gulping.

"And," Jamie asks. He's always been curious of men's first time. _In battle that is._

Dickon looks around uncomfortably.

"It was glorious."

Bronn snorts, matching Jamie's thoughts.

"Come on, Dickoff, your father isn't here," Bronn goads.

The lads well developed shoulders sag ever so slightly.

"All my life, we've been pledged to House Tyrell. I knew some of those men. Hunted with them often."

Bronn has the courtesy to cease laughing at the boy but it's Jamie that tries to help him find solace in what just happened.

In the utmost strategic manner.

"Those men didn't deserve to die. But Lady Olena chose to betray her Queen and support the Targaryen girl. So here we are."

Jamie let's the bait sink. _Yes, this is all her fault. The Mad Kings daughter is why you just had to slaughter your friends._

Dickons face scrunches up.

"I didn't expect it to smell like that."

Bronn laughs again, but not so cruelly this time.

"Men shit themselves when they die. Didn't they teach you that in fancy lad school? I learnt it when I was five."

Dickon didn't answer just carries on looking like his world is shattering into pieces.

"Yes, it's never—"

Bronn cuts Jamie off with a shush and a flick of his hand.

His usually mocking face has turned into one of deep concentration.

"Do you hear that," he asks, his head inclining further.

Jamie strains his ears and within seconds he hears what the sellsword does.

Hooves pounding on the earth and . . . Screams.

Jamie looks to where the sound is coming from, and in the distance across the flat plain they rest upon, Jamie starts to barely make out thousands of mounted men racing toward them, the noise of their approach getting louder and louder.

"Shit." He whispers.

 _She's here._

All three men immediately jerk into action commanding the soldiers to gather in formation.

"In line! In line now! Spears and shields! Spears and shields!"

In no time at all his forces are ready to block the attack heading at them. _Or try at least._

Jamie has to focus hard on keeping his steed calm at all the commotion. He watches as a Dothraki Hoard comes closer and closer to their position, their war cries sending awful shivers down his spine, making his balls tighten and belly spasm.

They're outnumbered, Jamie can tell immediately as they take up the entire horizon.

Bronn rushes up beside him, "Get back to Kings Landing!"

"I'm not abandoning my men!" He may be as frightened as a new born calf, but he won't back down. He's Jamie Lannister, fear will not control him.

"You're not a damn infantry man anymore! Get back to the castle before those fuckers swamp us!"

Jamie looks to Bronn, the vibrations of the oncoming savages making his bones reverberate so painfully he felt it in even his missing hand.

"We can hold them off!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth they hear a terrible screech, one Jamie, or any living man, thought he'd never hear.

He's gaze whips back to what's coming at them and as if in a dream he witnesses as a black dragon, a beast so terrifyingly beautiful it takes his breath away, emerges from the low, dark clouds. It roars again, its wings seeming to span the entire horizon, and Jamie almost weeps.

 _She really is here, and we're all going to die._

* * *

AN: I am so, so sorry but this chapter became so long and was overwhelming me to I have to split the battle in two. It will be coming soon, though, in the next few days I promise! At least this way you get a chapter a little sooner than if I made it all one big thing.

To answer some questions I think might make an appearance in the reviews

1: I replaced the bastard convo because while I enjoyed it, I found it silly, Missandei had been around _maaaaaany_ different cultures, the fact that she speaks 19 languages proof of that. There's no way with all the people she's met she never met a bastard from a different culture before. Also I wanted to write something original.

2: yes, I will be occasionally delving into different POVs as the story progresses but never fear it will still mostly be Jon and Danys POV

This was so time consuming to write and I worked so hard on it so pleeeeaaaaase review!


	14. Fire and Blood

AN: I own nothing.

ANSWERING REVIEWS

BUTCH BETH: Good point about Yara and her ships being very useful to Dany, I did forget about that fact. But she choose Dany because Dany is seemingly stronger than Cersei, if Cersei had been seemingly stronger she would have gone to her, therefore not truly loyal, I cerantly wouldn't trust that person more than I absolutely have to. Her picking Dany was strategy. Either way I personally don't care for any of the Greyjoys. Like at all. So I won't be writing them anymore than my story and the ideas I have dictate. Also there is a huge difference between Dany killing innocents and them dying by someone else hand or for some outside reason she can't control. She's not going to butcher innocents just because they *might* have died anyways. Many will die but it won't be because she killed needlessly. As for Jon being locked up . . . That is not how you treat potential allies, let alone a king, to say the least, especially since he hasn't physically harmed her. Sorry you're not enjoying how I'm writing him but I want some conflict between them before they get together.

* * *

 **Fourteen: Fire and Blood**

Kingslayer

The Kingslayer stares as if in a dream state, as the terrifying beast flaps it's wings, projecting itself right towards his frontline in a single swoop. He can hear as the Dothraki also reach the first line of defense, the bang of steel, the cries of horses and men easy to make out but Jamie's sights are set entirely on the dragon.

Jamie watches agape as it hovers over his men about a hundred yards from where he stands, close enough to feel the force of its flapping wings, the wind conjured up threatens to dismount him. But far enough Jamie thinks the flames won't touch him, to which he selfishly thanks the gods.

It opens its huge jaw, displaying monstrous teeth and roars so loudly Jamie has no doubt the gods themselves were disturbed and breathes fire. Jamie can only stare as at least a hundred of his men are hit by the force of the projected flame, second in sheer force only to an erupting volcano. _Maybe_.

The screams are the most terrible he's ever heard from men. The following hush from them only to be left with the crackling of fire — even worse.

The dragon continues on, flying behind their line of defense and Jamie's eyes follow it, fear making his blood quiver.

He gasps aloud as he catches sight of silver hair atop the majestic monster.

 _She's riding it . . . By gods, She's fucking riding it, the Madwoman._

Watching the beast fly away — the sounds of battle are brought back to the forefront of his mind and he turns back to see that The Dragon Queens hoard has broken through, many of them even riding through the flames, their war horses kicking up an odd dust that Jamie can't place right away as he remembered the field to be completely full with lush grass just moments ago. Then Jamie realizes it's not dust. It's ashes. The men that just burned have already turned to _ash_.

In only seconds they've become nothing. No body left to be identified. No chance at a burial or personal token to be found of them to be presented to a grieving family. Nothing but ashes that will drift with the wind and saturate the air with lives lost.

"Can't you hear me, you dumb fucker!?"

Jamie is ripped from his trance as someone slaps his face. His eyes focus on his sell sword.

"Listen to me, you fucking cunt! You don't get to die because you're busy shitting your pants over a Dragon. You don't get to get yourself killed, only _I_ get to kill ya! Now command the troops before these fuckers butcher us all!"

Jamie nods steely, thankful for the reminder that he has work to do and hardens his nerves.

 _Time to fight, I will not be ashes._

Jamie turns to the battle ready to try to restrengthen their line until he hears that awful roar again.

He looks to his left to see the dragon bounding back right towards them. When it's close enough it unleashes its hell fire, longer this time and Jamie, once again, can only look on as it destroys half of the line of wagons in one sure sweep.

It's so close to the ground now, wrecking all the havoc it can, Jamie can clearly make out Daenerys Targaryen on its back, commanding it as Aegon The Conquerer once had Balerion the Dread.

Jamie watches as it flies further still and bounds back right towards them.

"We've got to kill that fucking thing!" He yells at Bronn and guides his horse away from the battling men.

"Archers! Archers! In line!"

Fifty Archers race toward his position, their faithful bows and arrows held in front of them like children they're not sure how to properly hold.

"Line up!"

They fall into formation easily as the dragon races directly towards them and Jamie praises their courage.

"Draw!"

They draw their arrows and Jamie prays the fire will be extinguished with this single command.

The dragon opens its jaw wide.

" _Loose_!"

Fifty arrows race straight and true towards the Dragon and it's rider and for a split second Jamie sees their victory. A part of him feels like a conqueror for destroying the terrible beast. The other a monster for destroying a gorgeous Legend come true. But it's all dashed away as he watches the clever thing drag its chest up and blocks the arrows from its mother as they ping off him like pebbles.

It swoops further down and Jamie's eyes widen knowing it's going to spew fire on them.

Lucky for him and Bronn they have steeds and gallop away before the flames reach them, but only just, as Jamie can still feel the suffocating heat even through his armor.

The archers did not fair as well and the dragon flies off again, their scorched bodies falling to the ground. Jamie now sees the ones that turn to ash immediately as the fortunate ones, as he watches some men burn slower. One rips his helmet off, his skin coming off with it and the Kingslayers stomach rolls.

Jamie doesn't dwell long, not this time, as he sees one of the few wagons that still stands holds exactly what they need.

"Qyborns Scorpin is over there!" Jamie yells to Bronn, as the ruthless sell sword dispatches a Screamer.

"Go get it then!"

"I can't shoot with one hand!"

Bronn eyes him hatefully, calls him a dirty cunt but rides off towards it none the less.

Jamie almost weeps as he sees even through all the smoke, the Targaryen bitch and her dragon coming back again, relentlessly.

Jamie hears a gutteral scream, closer than the ones still fighting his men and turns to see a savage galloping towards him, eyes dead set on Jamie, his next conquest, two Arakhs swinging, slicing men as he goes, the dragon flying over head.

 _Gods, it is a sight_ , even Jamie has to admit.

He knows there's nowhere to run so he unsheathes his sword waiting for the man to come.

When he does he brings both curved blades down upon Jamie's head but he intercepts him with his own traditional sword.

The savage screams throatily and uses all his weight to push down his blades and Jamie feels his strength waning. He uses his golden hand to support the blade and they find themselves at a stale mate.

Until Jamie sees a sword spring though his throat like a pig being skewered.

The screamer falls and Jamie sees Dickon pulling his sword free.

Jamie nods at the lad, eternally grateful, and Dickon returns the favor, coming up close to ask a question.

"What do we do n—"

He doesn't get to finish and Jamie watches helplessly as his head is suddenly taken from his shoulders.

Literally _stolen_. A savage, as quick as lightening, simultaneously grabbed at his hair and cut his head off and took it with him, whooping and hollering, swinging it over his own head as he rides away.

Dickons now limp, incomplete body falls on Jamie's shoulder, his blood pouring all over him, coating his armor and face.

It pains him, the indignity of it, but he pushes the boys corpse off him and turns back to the battle, his heart and mind alike controlled solely by bloodlust now, not emotion for anything other than what needs to be done next to win.

He'll grieve later.

He hears the dragon roar again. Watches it unleash its fire again.

 _I have to end this somehow! Now!_

 **Mother of Dragons**

Dany shifts as far as she can to see beneath her at the carnage she's created. While she cannot bring herself to regret this battle, it still doesn't ease her heart of the lives being whisked away by steel and fire at her command.

It's not the first time she's killed, nor will it be the last if she's to live another day, but she's found it never gets easier.

When she'd sent a scout to watch the Lannister army marching, stern orders to report back to her at once if they rest, she'd hoped for exactly this. A wide open plain in which her hoard could do what they do best and she and Drogon as well.

And when the Lannisters became aware of their mighty presence they surprised her greatly. They lined up to fight.

Even as she commanded the first flames from her child she mentally commended their bravery.

And scorned their commanders utter stupidity.

Now as she rides back and forth destroying all she can of the Lannisters much needed supplies, something she realizes too late was not the best course of action she could have chosen, she still knows this battle is won.

If she could do it over again she would have tried to destroy more of the forces before her Dothraki came riding up. But by the time her men meet the unflinching line, it was too late. She couldn't risk burning her entire Hoard as the men battled so she'd decided then her next best course of action was destroy what they worked so hard to procure.

 _Thank the gods, Highgarden has more. Cersei will go without, and by extension the people, not that they would have seen any of this food anyways. But I will change that quickly. This war will be over soon, by all the gods I have foresaken, I swear it, and then I will see my people to prosperity once again._

The smoke and airborne debris burns Daenerys eyes fiercely as she doubles back and tries to search for anything or anyone her child needs to dispatch, but she didn't find anything.

Instead it found her.

An arrow, seemingly as thick as her arm and as long as she is tall, sails by terrifyingly past her, just barely missing Drogons outstretched wing and coming even closer to her head.

She looks to the ground searching for the weapon capable of launching such a thing. The clouds of destruction part and a beam of light hits it as if the gods wished to illuminate it for her. She takes it as a sign to destroy it. A large, impressive contraption she's never seen before, probably made specifically to kill her child.

 _Smart bastards!_

Daenerys grits her teeth and wordlessly commands Drogon down towards it as fast as he can — the harsh wind like knives against her bare cheeks until tears spring to her eyes.

As Drogon soars down, his head, as big as a small carriage, blocks her view. She can't see clearly how far off they are, but she cannot let the man controlling that contraption fire first.

" _Dracarys_!"

Dany can sense the flames building in Drogons throat as if it's coming from hers as well, but before he can fulfill his mothers command the arrow penetrates her child in his side.

The cry that leaves him is one she'll take to her grave, the pain he's suffering a pain she shares with him.

And then he's falling, his right wing paralyzed in agony. Dany hangs on for dear life, her hands grip his horns like a leech and her thighs grip his body as she would a horse, but a dragon is not a horse. He's too wide, her thighs can't find enough purchase to keep her safe if he should flip over.

This struggle seems to go on forever and Dany can feel her strength leaving her and she fears she'll fall to her death in seconds as well as Drogon to his.

She has nothing left, her unrefined muscles not developed enough for this amount of strain. A tear leaves her eye as she searches deep inside of herself, the part connected to her child and gives him the last of whatever she has left, her only hope that he survives this crash, even if she cannot.

 _If I die, you must live, my sweet baby. You must live and choose another. Another that can take my place in this war and in your heart. I'm so sorry._

"I love you."

The air is stolen from her gut as Drogon, with a powerful screech, rights himself before he comes too close to the ground, his wing within his own power again, flapping strongly.

With the unexpected and jarring movement, Danys lower body finds itself airborne for a few scary seconds until gravity pulls her back down harshly, her grip still thankfully somewhat strong on Drogons horns, her only saving grace to not falling off all together.

Deanerys feels more drained than she ever has before, then realizes her child had used the strength she'd given to save them both, the brilliant creature.

She stares down at the man that shot her baby as they hover above him and the retched weapon and she doesn't even need to say the word. Drogon lights it up, but not before Dany watches the bastard jump off the platform on which it sits.

 _I will fucking find you._

Drogon lands besides it heavily and drives his tail through the _thing_ , the sound of its destruction the most pleasing thing either of the fierce dragons has ever heard.

Dany, boneless and wind blown, crawls off her child to see to his injury.

She's sickened as she watches him crawl agonized toward the water, the too large arrow sticks out of him of like a pin in a cushion.

The battle going on around her doesn't even enter her mind, all that matters is caring for her child.

As he drinks from the river she grabs a hold of the arrow and using her shoulder as leverage she pulls. Drogon screeches and his pain soars through his mother bringing more tears to Danys eyes.

She doesn't let them fall though, she needs to get the arrow out of him. It's the only way he'll begin healing. She pulls again, to no avail, and he answers with another awful screech and jerks his wing away making Dany stumble.

She moves to grab at the arrow again and as she does a terrible, nausea inducing agony rips through her own shoulder and The Conqueror screams out. Not the metaphysical pain she feels second hand from Drogon.

No — an entirely physical pain that is all her own.

Loud gasps and shouts fall from her lips and she begins hyperventilating as she looks to her left shoulder stunned and sees the tip of an arrow and a few inches of the wood sticking out of her body, her blood coating it grotesquely.

She instinctually grabs around the injury, only causing herself more pain and turns to look to see who shot her.

When she turns, her eyes catch a Lannisters soldier on his knee some yards away from her, his bow lowered to see if he made his kill.

When he sees he missed her heart he reaches behind him for another arrow making Dany cry out again.

He draws it and Dany panics, the pain, none like she's ever felt before, steeling her wits from her.

Lucky for her the man didn't hide himself well and one of her Dothraki, still a top his mount, cuts him down but not before he lets his arrow loose. This one misses and Dany gasps in relief.

It's short lived, though, as her eye catches a mounted knight charging directly towards her. At first all she can see is the water being kicked up by the beautiful white war horse, but as he becomes uncomfortably close she can make out the man.

He wears the finest of red and gold armor, a show of his prestige in Cerseis army, a lance wedged expertly under his arm. His blonde hair flops as his horse charges and that alone should have told her who he is. But it's the fury in his focused gaze that tells her this is Jamie Lannister. Her fathers murderer, the man that was essential in the ruin of her house.

Dany, despite still being in so much pain it threatens to strip her of her consciousness, stops panicking. She clears her head and mentally calls out to Drogon. Despite his own pain he answers his mothers call, shifts to hide her completely from the fiend on his way to slay her, and breathes fire once again.

 _You'll not finish Aerys Targaryens, The Second of his name, daughter today, Kingslayer._

* * *

AN: please review!

The next two chapters are done (only need to be edited), please leave lots of reviews and you'll get them speedy quick.


	15. The Aftermath

AN: I own nothing

How it SHOULD have happened.

* * *

 **Fifteen: The Aftermath**

Mother of Dragons

Drogon shifts his head back so that his mother may see what's left of the Kingslayer to which she's met with nothing but ashes. He'd been so close to her when Drogon had let loose of course there'd be nothing left of him or his armor or horse.

Dany breathes a sigh of relief. That is until she notices heads bobble up from the rivers surface. Dany moves closer to the waters edge, the arrow in her shoulder sending continuous waves of pain through her, and watches as the man that shot Drogon tries to pull the passed out Kingslayer away from the battle.

 _What? How? I — how!_

Dany spins quickly, her shoulder protesting cruelly, and calls out to the three closes riders she sees.

"Blood of my blood! Retrieve those men! I want them alive!"

Without a moments hesitation they drop their weapons and rush into the water, swimming strongly and surely to her fleeing enemies.

Once they reach them it's a terrible tussle, the beast that shot Drogon doing his best to try to drown one of her riders. He ultimately fails, unable to drown a man and keep one from drowning at the same time. Two riders seize him, one putting him in a choke hold, and the third rider takes hold of a still unconscious Jamie Lannister.

The man still doesn't give up, elbowing the Dothraki in the nose, blood immediately gushing forth, but even that's not enough to deter the warrior from doing as his Khaleesi commanded.

Dany then focuses on the Kingslayer.

Mere minutes ago Dany had felt deep satisfaction at his possible demise, but now that the moment has passed, she's glad he's still alive. Now she'll have all her questions answered, not to mention a very valuable hostage.

Once brought out of the water the one responsible for her child's pain begins thrashing for real, doing all he can to take on his captors. Dany calls out to more riders, instructing them to check his person, take all his weapons and bound him, the same for the Kingslayer.

"Both men are to have three guards each, watching their every move, am I understood?"

She hears a chorus of "yes, Khaleesi."

For the first time since she landed she focuses on the men still battling.

It's a pitiful sight, the Lannister force had all but been demolished, the few still standing now trying to run from the Dothraki than to continue fighting them.

A rider that just finished a hand to hand fight runs to her.

"Khaleesi! You've been hurt! Where is the man, I'll bring you his head!"

Dany begins to feel light headed at the reminder of the arrow still poking through her shoulder.

"He's already been taken care of, Blood of my blood. I need you to gather more men and collect the rest of the Usurpers soldiers that still stand. No more killing, I want them subdued and collected."

Drogon moans besides her and she looks from him and back to her rider.

"But first send me three men, _now_!"

He nods his head, goes to the first three riders he finds and taps them on the shoulder, and points to her. Their annoyance at being interrupted of collecting their spoils are whisked away when they see it's their Khaleesi that calls upon them. They run to her, each horrified at the sight of her injury. She silences their concern over her, knowing she can wait.

"My child has been shot as well, we need to get the arrow out of him."

She doesn't wait for them to say anything and walks to Drogon, his exhausted body curled in on its self. Two of the men move gingerly, only one rider, with a short braid no less, moves forward confidently to his task.

"If you're too afraid," Dany bites to the other two men, "find me new men, either way stop wasting my time!"

They move into action, not liking being shamed. All three carefully wrap their hands around the arrow waiting for Danys command.

She walks to her child, hugging and petting his snout with her one good arm.

"I'm so sorry, my baby," She whispers. "it'll only hurt for a minute, I promise. Then it'll be over and you'll soar strongly again."

Still holding him as affectionately as she can to keep him as calm as possible, she turns her head to her riders and nods.

In one swift jerk they rip the offending weapon out of Drogon, causing him to whip his head skywards and roar out his pain, fire erupting from him in one huge gust.

"Shhhh, shhhh, its all over now. It's okay, you're okay."

Still moaning in pain he turns his head back to his mother, needing to be comforted. Dany does exactly that, all the while wishing he were small again so that she could properly hold him. Once he's settled down Dany turns to her riders and commands them to carry the arrow for her, as she wishes to keep it. They nod their heads and continue on searching for their own trophies.

As they move away the Kingslayer is once again in her view but now he's awake. He's sitting up, his back propped up against his comrades and staring at her as if he's seen a ghost. Or like he's trying to read a book in a foreign language he doesn't know.

Daenerys walks towards him really taking in all his features. He's a handsome man, that is undeniable. His blond hair is short on the sides and long on top, his blue eyes blood shot and tired. He really is a sight in his proud armor, lions adorning his shoulders and stamped in gold. She looks him deep in his eyes, searching for the monster that lays in him. Searches for the man that has done the many terrible things she's heard he's done, more than just destroying her house.

That man is there, no doubt about it. But also a scared man. He breaks eye contact first and Dany keeps staring, but for just a little while.

 _The day is not over._

She turns to the riders she commanded to watch them and nods. They bring both men to their feet and begin ushering them back into the battle ground. Ash and bodies, Lannisters and Dothraki a like, are scattered for as far as the eye can see, making Dany feel nauseous again.

She begins walking as well, she'll see what's left. She'll look upon everything, of all that she made of this place and these men. Each step aggravates her wounded shoulder but she dismisses the riders that try to help her walk. Even now she knows she cannot show weakness, so she will not.

She'll grit her teeth, fight off the darkness threatening her vision. She'll do what she's always done — endure and conquer that which opposes her. Even if it's her own body this time.

* * *

Daenerys stands a top a boulder, clutching her arm, purposely putting pressure on her injury as the deep, throbbing ache helps her focus, helps her from drifting away from consciousness. Drogon soars lazily to a resting spot behind her on an even larger cluster of boulders and curls up to oversee everything, ever faithfully concerning himself with his mothers well being.

She watches as riders mercilessly herd the downtrodden enemy soldiers, two hundred maybe, into a tight circle before her. She almost weeps at the terror and pain on their ash covered faces, clutching their own wounds as she does hers.

"Your Grace!" Tyrion cries out, climbing on the boulder and towards her as fast as his small legs could carry him.

She hadn't even realized he was here.

He rushes to her, his eyes focused on her shoulder, horrified.

"Daenerys, you're wounded! Gods, are you okay, how are you still standing?"

At first sight of her Hand, annoyance had shot through her but she softens, humbled by his worry.

 _For all our differences, all the things we don't agree about one another, he does care for me, his Queen, and I him. We want the same thing._

"I'm fine ,my friend, it's but a scratch."

He shakes his head at her, tears filling his eyes.

"Your grace, that arrow could have struck your hea—" he cuts himself off, unable to bare the thought, it would seem.

Dany smiles sadly and presses on her arm again. Her attention then brought to the riders responsible for the Kingslayer and his friend. They lead them to the side of the boulder separate from the other prisoners, their arms bound behind their backs. Her riders kick their legs out from under them until they fall to their knees and Dany hears her hand gasp by her side. She doesn't look to him, but to the other soldiers waiting before her.

"My name is Daenerys Targaryen. Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Today you fought valiantly. You fought nobly . . . And You fought for the wrong Queen. You fought for a pretender that does not care about you. Does not care about your families. A coward that would not risk her life for her title, let alone her people. I don't know what the Usurper Cersei Lannister has told you of me, but I'm sure it was lies that spewed from her just the same as every other time she's opened her mouth. This may be hard for you to believe as I've just rained fire down upon you all. It was cruel indeed, I wouldn't insult you by not admitting it. It is how I treat my _enemies_. You served, bravely, a queen that sees anyone other than _her_ as her enemy. The rubble that is all that is left of the Sept of Baelor is a testament to that. Join me, The Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, and I will do all in my power to end this war with as little death as possible, and we will usher in an era of prosperity for all people, rich and poor alike. Bend the knee and you will be pardoned for fighting along side the wrong Queen, you shall keep all your lands and titles if you have any. Refuse, and be treated once again as my enemy."

Dany watches as around three or four dozen men immediately fall to their knees. Some with faces filled with awe, most with fear. It makes her sick to see fear on their faces in this moment. This was once her fathers land and she's had to resort to this. To scare people of her homeland to bend the knee.

 _I wish they would love me._

She knows how stupid that thought was, she just waged war on them, of course they fear her, but she wishes it anyways. She wished they all looked at her like the freed people of Meereen. They saw her as their mother. Now in her own homeland, her wanted subjects see her as a conqueror. She is one, of course, it's what she had to be.

 _Yes, as selfish as it is, I want them to love me. But I'll settle for fear._

She looks to all the angry faces of those still standing and mentally reaches out to Drogon.

From behind her he lets out a terrible roar, how he found the strength for it, she'll never know, but it achieved the desired effect.

The rest of the men fall to their knees, shrieking.

All except one. An older man, grey and stern.

"Step forward, my Lord."

He does so, proudly.

"What is your name?"

"Randyll Tarly," he answers, his chin high and sure. And Danys eyes widen, recognizing the name immediately.

"Why have you refused to bow?"

"You are not my queen. I'll not serve a foreign invader with an army of savages and Eunuchs at her back."

Dany presses on her arm.

"You fought for my father, didn't you, Lord Tarly? You served House Targaryen during Roberts Rebellion, the only commander to do so and defeat the Usurper in battle — something not even my brother Rhaeger could do. You brought Robert Baratheon the only loss he'd ever known, for my family, and now that I have come to retake my throne, you disgrace me and turn your back on your first oath. Not only that, you butcher your own Kin, and for what?"

The last was a genuine question. What could have been enough for him to turn on his own blood?

He doesn't say anything, just stares at her with those hard, unyielding eyes.

Dany purses her lips and nods to one of her riders.

They take the proud soldier and force him closer to Drogon — he does not struggle.

"Your Grace, _please_ ," Tyrion begs, "Send him to the wall, let him live out his life serving the realm there for his crimes."

Dany looks from her Hand to Randyll, a question in her eyes.

"You cannot send me to The Wall, you are not my Queen."

"Silence you fool," Tyrion cries out, "One great house has already been wiped out because of this war, don't let another leave the world!" He turns back to Dany, "Perhaps some time in a cell will change his mind."

Dany doesn't need to look to Tarly to know Tyrion speaks falsely. A man such as him would rot there happily before he bows.

"I'm not here to lock people up."

"Your Grace, Please, we cannot take his head!"

"I'm not taking anyone's head."

A look of pure horror slithers into her Hands expression and she presses on her arm again and steps away from him.

"I, Daenerys Targaryen, The First of my Name, Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Mother of Dragons, sentence you, Lord Randyll Tarly, To die. Do you have any final words?"

Dany watches as he struggles with himself, obviously wanting to say something but not sure he should or can.

He finally does.

"My sons body is on that battle field. His head somewhere else as well. I ask that you send both back to his mother at Horn Hill."

Dany gulps painfully and nods.

 _Just as I thought, no time in a cell would make this man bend to me._

"Dracarys."

He didn't even cry out — the proximity and force of the flame too much, Dany suspects he died as soon as he was touched, to which she's thankful.

She would have rather he'd bent and lived, but she can't lie that he's death was of good use to her as well. It sets a clear example to the rest of the men that had fought by his side not even an hour passed.

With a hand from one of her main Riders, one of six she's entrusted to guard her back at all times, Xhargo, she steps off her platform and walks up to a soldier that had caught her eye. At first glance he seems to be one with the least injury to his person and he had looked at her with awe, quickly falling to one knee. He kneels uncomfortable close to the Kingslayers position so she keeps her eye directly on his bowed head.

"Arise, Soldier," she commands.

He lifts his head, his dirty face resembling more of a mask, big brown eyes staring up at her with a swirl of emotions.

He stands slowly, but towers over her before too long.

"What's your name."

"Rickard Waters, Your Grace," he stutters out, staring horrified at the arrow protruding through her shoulder.

It pulls horrifically painful, having to look up at the tall man, no older than she.

"If I saw correctly, you were the first to bend the knee. Was it out of wish or fear?"

He gulps and looks to his muddy boots.

"A little bit of both, your grace, please forgive me."

Dany clinches her teeth at the darkness starting to swirl in her vision.

"No need for forgiveness, Rickard, when I ask a question I expect honesty — always. As of now I herby name you The temporary keeper of these men. I'll be taking you all back to Dragonstone, where unfortunately we've no Maesters yet. You'll take stock of all injuries and report what is needed for your men to my Hand, Tyrion Lannister."

He looks to her shocked but nods. "Yes, My Queen."

To her left Dany hears one of her riders start laughing.

She looks over to see one of the men she charged with Jamie Lannisters laughing and mockingly waving around a golden hand. His hand by the look of utter rage and embarrassment on his face.

 _Thats right, he'd lost it._ Tyrion had told her he'd been protecting a woman from rape when it happened.

"Give it back to him." Daenerys snaps. Shocking the rider and even herself.

But he doesn't argue, instead sticks the hand in the neck of Kingslayers tunic. They'd taken his proud armor.

She turns her back on everyone and strides to Drogon, her gait not as graceful as she would wish.

It was agony, but she climbed on her child, trying and failing to not use her injured shoulder too much, her vision going black at times and coming back to her but not as it should.

 _Take us home, Drogon, please. I need Missandei._

Drogon took off carefully, knowing his mother is vulnerable and weak right now.

The trip seemed to take even longer the second time around and she wished she'd stayed with Tyrion and her men; had one of them see to her wound, but she can't go back. Not after the way he looked at her. This way she'll get home faster, anyways.

Dany allows herself to relax against her child, her eyes falling closed. She stays aware enough to keep her grip strong but other than that she allows the darkness to gain power over her.

She doesn't know how long it took but they eventually land heavily, jolting Dany and making her moan loudly from the way it jarred her shoulder. She feels Drogon rush forward on his legs and wings and stop suddenly, making her moan out in pain again. She tries to lift her head and see where they are but she can't open her eyes well, the wind making it near impossible.

She hears the songs of her other children and relaxes. She's home. She tries to move, to climb off and find Missandei but she can't, she has nothing left.

Still she tries to open her eyes but can't really make out what she's seeing when she can, just muted colors and maybe moving objects, she can't be sure.

Dany can't hold on any longer and passes out, her name being called out roughly as she does.

* * *

AN: pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaase reeeeeeeview!


	16. A Hope for Dawn

AN: I'm so excited because these next few chapters (could be anywhere from 5-10, depending on how I break them up) are gonna be almost completely (if not completely) original and the chapters I've been dying to write ever since I first thought of this story. Hope you guys enjoy.

Thank you to those of you that review, I am usually the most horrendous updater in the world, I have sooo many unfinished stories, this is the best I've ever done consistently updating and it's due in part because of those of you that review and tell me your thoughts, good or bad. I'm so thankful, please keep it coming and I'll keep the chapters flowing.

* * *

 **Sixteen: A Hope for Dawn**

King in the North

 _Something's . . . Off._

Jon looks up anxiously as he watches Rhaegal and Viserion, their motions erratic and more concerning. They'll shoot up straight in the air and then back down in such a way Jon fears they'll crash. They'll also fly in awkward zigzags, making the usually graceful creatures seem like they're being jerked around by some outside force. And when they're not in the air, they'll crawl on the castle walls, breaking off large portions of stone, all the while letting out terrible cries — Sharp, whiny screeches that makes one want to scratch at their ears.

Jon turns suddenly, startled by another strange roar, and gasps as he sees the Queens steed flying towards Dragonstone. Jon finds himself striding excitedly near the edge of the cliff, the same one she'd ridden off of, as if he could meet Drogon and his rider half way, but settles for gazing out over the strong currents as Drogon draws closer and closer, the setting sun a poetic backdrop crafted perfectly for the magical beast.

He shakes his monstrous head to and fro mid flight, until he almost seems to zero in on Jon. He circles gracefully, The Kings' eye never leaving him, desperate to see Daenerys. With a lucky shift of the beasts head, he catches a glimpse of silver hair and exhales in relief. Drogon lands suddenly, shaking the ground underfoot and crawls towards where Jon stands. He lets out a roar, so close to Jons face he can see every tooth, every ridge of the creatures mouth and even what Jon suspects is the cavity his flames erupt from.

 _Seven hells, I'm standing not even a few feet from a dragon that could fry me alive and all I can truly focus on is how bloody awful the beasts breath is._

Jon stands as still as possible, consciously forcing himself to not back up, to not show fear, lest the most dominant of The Queens children mistakes him for food. Jon expected more roaring maybe even a threat of flames from all he's seen and heard — Drogon likes to show off. Instead he settles down slightly, and while he still bares his teeth, he leans in and all of sudden The Northman knows exactly what to do.

Moving cautiously Jon removes his glove and with a quick intake of breath, he won't dare release until he gets his limb back, he stretches his hand for Drogon to scent. With suspicious hazel serpentine eyes Drogon moves forward with a growl and sniffs noisily.

 _Please, gods, don't let me have just cost myself my hand._

Shocking The King to his Northmans heart, at the first whiff of his scent, Drogon stops growling, sheaths his large canines and purrs, or what Jon can only assume is a purr, as it sounds like the softest sound a dragon could possibly be capable of.

He exhales and steps forward, knowing he's pressing his luck, but he can't pass this incredible opportunity up. He moves forward respectfully until he's touching the side of Drogons snout.

Jon finds that he's softer than he looks. Not that his roughen scales can compare to the fur of his Direwolf, Ghost, but it's not like touching calloused spikes as Jon had imagined. Instead it feels somewhat similar to weathered leather.

 _I've now not only seen a dragon . . . I've touched one, I'm actually petting one of the most awe inspiring beasts that has ever roamed this world. Gods, how this life has been a journey._

Jon takes his hand away as Drogon begins jerking his head weirdly, it's not until he bows his head low that Daenerys starts to come into his view.

Jon waits for her to climb off but instead as Drogon bows lower and lower he sees she's lying on him, her gorgeous face towards him. Her eyelids are fluttering wildly and her body is rocking with what seems to be hard earned breaths. It's then Jon notices the horrifying sight of an arrow sticking up from her back.

" _Daenerys_!"

Her eyes flutter closed and Jon doesn't even think about what his action could mean for himself, he climbs onto Drogons clawed foot and onto his body as best he can and takes a hold of Daenerys face, smoothing the hair from her eyes.

"Daenerys! Open your eyes! Gods be damned, open your eyes, woman!"

Jon slips as Drogon shifts but works his way back up and moves her braid for a better view of the arrow, his stomach rolling at the sight of how it disappears into her clothed back.

 _She was shot . . . She was actually shot and she rode home with an arrow in her shoulder. Damn the woman for riding off to battle and coming back with my fear come true!_

She's not responding to Jons pleas for her to open her eyes so he just begins to drag her limp body towards himself, the feel of her dead weight making Jon want to cry out.

It's unceremonious but he shifts her onto her back as best he can, painfully aware if he's not careful he could impale more of the arrow into her. Once she's cradled in his arms securely he lifts her from her child and steps down.

Her other children land beside them and crowd around Jon, growling at the sight of their lifeless mother in his arms. It's then he sees the tip of the arrow protruding from her front, her blood coated thoroughly on the angry head as if it were paint on a brush rather than dragon blood on an enemy weapon.

 _I'll kill the fucking bastard that has done this!_

Rhaegal and Viserion roar at him, slithering closer and closer.

 _Fuck! If they take offense, I'm done for and I need to get her into the castle!_

They roar again, making Jon only hold on tighter to the passed out dragon mother, her body fitting perfectly in his arms, even with his heavy cloak ruining his mobility.

Drogon shifts his entire body, shielding them from his brothers and lets out a roar of his own, showing them who is in charge.

Jon doesn't wait to see what happens between the three, striding as fast as he can, the adrenaline running through his veins all that's keeping him moving.

Jon hears a high pitched moan come from Daenerys and he looks down to see her face pinched together and her uninjured arm reaching for the injured one.

"Daenerys?"

She doesn't answer, just moans out in pain again. That's when Jon realizes with the way he has to hold her, her injured side cradled next to his chest, and his arm around her upper back, with each step he puts continuous pressure on the underside of the arrow itself.

"Daenerys, Your Grace, if you can hear me, I'm so sorry, I know I'm causing you pain, but we're almost to the castle, you'll be in a warm bed soon. Everything will be okay, I swear it."

Jon picks up his pace as the league of stairs comes into sight and he mentally curses.

 _Fuck the fiend that designed this place!_

It's a long, tortuous trek, his lungs and legs burning and his heart catching each time Daenerys moans in pain.

"I'm sorry, _I'm so sorry_ ," Jon grits out.

"Jon," Dany whispers, thrashing her head.

Jon pauses and gently hoists her up so her head rests better on his shoulder, her forehead pressed against his neck.

 _Seven hells! Her skin is on fire, please don't have let a fever have set in already._

That only fuels Jons will and he doubles his pace, cursing his damn cloak for tangling up in his legs.

"Viserys, No, _please no_ , I don't want . . ."

Dany thrashes her head more, gasping out random words.

"—His Queen . . . I — _Home_."

Once he reached the castle he stiffened his back and braced Daenerys in his arms, making her cry out, and his stomach to curdle, and kicked against the thick wooden doors.

In his head they sprung open and he'd rush through, in reality they didn't budge a bit and Jon hurt his foot.

"Someone help! Open the fucking door, Her grace is injured!" He kicked at the door again, this time just to get someone's attention.

" _Khaleesi_!"

Jon swivels, his wild eyes falling upon a weathered man with greying blonde hair and decades worth of Winters etched onto his face.

"What have you done with her?" He shouts, rushing upon them, three Dothraki at his back.

"Who are you? No closer!"

The elder man, no less a warrior it would seem despite his age, unsheathes a sword and with lightening fast reflexes, places the edge right below Jons right eye. The Dothraki falling suit with savage growls.

"Hand over My Queen, or I'll have your head!"

It's then Jon notices his accent.

 _He's a Northman._

Jon presses his cheek bone into the blade with fury in his eyes.

"Over my dead body." He grinds out.

 _No way in hell am I handing her over to a strange man._

Rage flashes through his pale blue eyes and Jon examines his options of how he can get Daenerys away from the intruder.

Neither man look away from one another as the doors open and Missandei cries out.

"Dany!"

Jon still doesn't look away even as the tall woman steps in between them, ducking under the strangers sword.

"Ser Jorah, put your weapon away!" She commands.

Jon doesn't wait around any longer, an open door was all he needed. He rushes in, finding his way to the Queens chambers quickly.

"What happened to her?" Missandei cries out, jogging beside him to open the doors.

"She's been hurt, took an arrow in the shoulder. Have you any healing skills?"

"I — I," Missandei stutters, "yes, but I've never, I mean I wouldn't know how, I—"

"— I can take care of the arrow, I need you to boil water and make a poultice, she's already suffering from a fever, we need to bring it down and make sure infection hasn't set in."

He sets her down on the edge of her bed, careful to keep her from falling down and shoving the arrow into her any more. Jon rips off his cloak one handed and throws it to the ground, still annoyed with how difficult it made getting Daenerys here.

"What happened to her?" The man, Jorah, demands coming up to the other side of the bed to look down at the Queen.

Jon looks up from her, glaring at the man that had dared try to take her from him.

"I don't know you, how do I know that's any of your business?"

"Listen here, boy, I am —"

"Both of you, that is enough!" Missandei growls, returning with the supplies needed and Ser Davos at her back. "Jon Snow this is Ser Jorah Mormont, Captain of her Graces Queens Guard; Ser Jorah, this is Jon Snow, King in the North, now both of you stop acting like children, or get out!"

As soon as Missandei says Mormont, the image of Jeor Mormont springs to the front of his head, one of the greatest men Jon had ever known, and this mans father.

Jon turns back to Daenerys, but answers Jorahs question.

"She left on her dragon to fight in a battle against the Lannisters and has returned with an arrow in her shoulder, that's all I know."

Her head lulls, the spike of the arrow head scratching her chin, making Jon wince.

 _It's a superficial cut but goddammit, I shouldn't have let it happen_.

He looks up at Jorah, his eyes as pained as Jons.

"Help me keep her steady," he whispers, his body feeling drained all of a sudden, "I have to break the head off before we can remove the arrow."

Jorah nods, still glaring at the younger man, but knowing there's nothing that can be done, Daenerys must come first, always.

Jorah replaces Jons hands with his own and braces the Khaleesi correctly, making Jon feel a little better about having him there.

"Shouldn't we give her some Milk of the Poppy first?" Missandei asks breathlessly.

Jon looks to her, unsure, he'd been passed out himself, when his arrows had been pulled from him.

Ser Davos steps forward, "It would be the kindest way, aye, but she won't be able to wake to take it. She will when that arrow is pulled though, so be ready with the cloths, lots of 'em. That arrow is all that's stopping her from bleeding out."

"Fire!" Ser Jorah calls out.

"What?" Jon asks dumbfounded why he'd say something so random.

Jorah looks at him then to Missandei then the cold hearth.

"Of course!" Missandei cries out and rushes to it. "Don't do anything yet!"

"What are you all going on about," Jon growls, "we need to hurry! The longer that thing is in her the more chance she has of catching an infection!"

"She won't," Jorah dismisses, as he watches Missandei start a fire and randomly stick an iron in it. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, you might understand how it looked from my perspective, seeing you carrying the limp body of my Queen, but I need you to trust me. I know what she needs."

The part of Jon that is still feeling territorial over her wants to tell him to fuck off, but he rationalizes that Missandei trusts this man, and Daenerys herself trusts no one more than her sister therefore Jon can't trust him as well.

Jon nods and looks to her again, brushing some fallen silver hair from her face.

 _Gods, even like this, sick and wane, she's gorgeous._

She moans softly and Jon prays for her sake she stays unconscious for what's to come.

"Alright, take the arrow out, it'll be ready by the time you're done." Missandei says from where she's crouched by the fire. Jon doesn't know what she's doing, but is thankful they can proceed, the sooner this is over the better.

"Davos, have the cloth ready," Jon commands, not waiting for an answer. The arrow is only in deep enough for Jon to wrap one hand around the wood, and it's then he realizes he's still thankfully wearing one glove, his other forgotten somewhere on the cliff. He wraps his gloved hand around the spiked head, the sharp metal biting straight through the leather despite its thickness, the pressure Jon uses too much for it too be of any use, and snaps the head clean off, embedding it deep in his palm and fingers in the process. He ignores the pain, he can handle his pain, it's hers that kills him.

Dany moans loudly her eyes flutter open.

 _Gods, no, please pass out again!_

"Jon," she gasps, her head falling back.

"I'm here, Dany," there's many things he wants to say to her, but no time, this needs to be done quickly, "I'm _so_ sorry for this."

His eyes turn to Jorahs and nods as he removes the arrow head from his hand and throws it to the floor.

The old knight squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the arrow out.

Dany cries out, her hands shoot up to Jons shoulders, clawing at him. Davos rushes in crowding over Jon to place cloths at both ends of the wound, blood gushing horrifically.

"Shit!" Jorah calls out, "we need to remove her clothing from the area!"

"We need to stop the bleeding!" Jon argues, Danys cries turning into long low moans.

Jorah doesn't say anything, instead he takes a dagger from his belt and begins cutting Daenerys's coak at the nape of her neck. He pushes Davos's hands away and rips the clothing off just enough to bring her wound into sight but not enough to compromise her modesty.

"Missandei, hurry!" Jorah calls out, as Davos reapplies pressure.

"It's ready!"

Missandei stands and comes forward holding the Iron, its red hot point sizzling in the already charged air.

 _Seven hells!_

Jon springs up ready to keep that thing away from her at all costs.

"What do you think you're going to do with that? It's not bad enough that the wound needs to be cauterized, we can stop the bleeding by just applying pressure!"

Missandei looks fiercely to The King in the North, "It's not about stopping the bleeding, trust us!"

"You're not going to burn her!" Jon roars, stepping towards her with the intention of taking the Iron from her.

Jorah steps forward and grabs Jon by the shoulder, "Fire cannot hurt a dragon!"

Dany continues moaning lowly.

"What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?"

Before Jorah could speak a sizzling sound wafts through the crowded room and Jon pushes the Knight away to see that Missandei had taken the opportunity to sneak to her Queen and press the hot iron to her flesh.

Rage washes over Jon until he notices Daenerys had stopped moaning in pain and instead sighs in . . . Relief. The look on her face one of almost euphoria. Jons watches agape as Missandei removes the Iron from the exit wound to the entry wound, the sizzle — blood curdling for Jon, but nirvana for the queen. She collapses on her side, seemingly not only not in pain anymore but enjoying the heat, _reveling_ in it.

The King in the North steps to her slowly and looks to the wound, expecting to see scorch marks, angry red welts and flaking skin. Instead he's met with nothing more than the blood caked arrow wound. It's the strangest thing he's ever seen, it should look like the burn mark it is, but instead it looks as if her injury had aged a month already. It'll scar, undoubtedly, but only the puncture mark.

"It — it didn't burn her skin . . ." Jon looks to Jorah, "how is this possible?"

Jorah steps around Jon and kneels beside his Queen, who seems to have drifted off to a peaceful sleep. He lifts one of her pale, delicate hands, stained with her own blood and presses it to his forehead.

"She's a dragon."

Jons head whips to Davos and they stare at each other in shock, as the old smugglers words come back to him, _"Word around the castle is her grace stepped into a fire with three stone eggs and emerged unburnt with three baby dragons."_

 _The unburnt. Her title, she is the unburnt . . . Truly._

Jon wants nothing more than to push Jorah away from her, but he resists. It wouldn't be proper or right. Doesn't stop him from glowering at him, like the jealous man he is, though.

Missandei rushes about making a healing poultice and applies it expertly. Then she uses the remaining cloths to fashion a sling and puts that on her as well. Once she's done Jon rushes to Daenerys before the thought could occur to the old knight and takes her in his arms again, placing her rightfully in her bed and tucks her in.

"You're hurt," Missandei gasps, taking a hold of Jons hand and ripping the glove off, making Jon hiss between his teeth.

 _Damn, I hadn't thought it was this bad_. All his fingers are cut open at the middle bend and his palm has a deep gouge.

"From breaking the arrow?" She asks softly to which Jon nods. "Sit down, I'll see to it."

Jon doesn't even think to argue, just sits on a lounge chair and allows her to see to him, his eyes never leaving the Mother of Dragons.

 _I should have gone with her, should have been there to take that arrow for her and kill the man that dare to harm her._

As he watches her chest rise and fall, her pouty lips part, her eye lids flutter, he's hit with . . . Everything.

Everything his heart has been trying to tell him, everything his mind has tried to ignore, everything he has ever wanted but never let himself wish for.

 _I_ love _her. Love her . . . like I've never loved another before. All the things I've faced, all the purposes I thought I had to live for . . . They're nothing compared to her. Seeing that arrow so close to her heart, so close to extinguishing her flame, as one had silenced my brothers howl. . ._

 _This shouldn't be possible, I've known her such a short time, I shouldn't feel this strongly, no matter how beautiful she is, no matter how kind and strong, no matter how wondrous._

 _But how can I not? She's the living embodiment of poetry, revived a part of me I didn't even realize was still dead. She's the only hope for a dawn to end this darkest hour._ She's _everything._

 _She's why I was brought back. She may be fire as I am ice, but everything I have ever endured has been to find her, to love her, I know this, without a doubt._

The Night King flashes before his eyes, the memory of his cold, detached evil taking his breath away and he remembers what awaits him, awaits all of them and he shudders violently.

 _It's true, the gods fashioned us for love, but they still like their fucking jokes, don't they._

* * *

AN: Now . . . Some of you might have found that burn bit non canon, and it prob is, I don't know, and some are very quick to point out when I'm being OOC, but this is fan fiction alright? Okay cool. PLEEEAAAAAASEE REEEEEVIEW!


	17. Reunited

AN: Sorry for the later update, this chapter wasn't easy to form and all together, writing it bit by bit, has taken me over a week, but I fininaly finished it so yay!

* * *

 **Seventeen: Reunited**

King in the North

Jon rubs at his injured hand, staring but not really seeing the piece of parchment in front of him. He's been at Dragonstone for weeks and, to his embarrassment, hasn't even thought to write home to Sansa.

Jon tries to tell himself he could be forgiven, the mining of the glass has taken up a lot of time, new difficulties arising every day, but he knows thinking about Daenerys has taken up more. Sometimes when he should have been overseeing the mining he'd wander the land, brooding over his budding feelings, how stupid he was for being so distracted, how badly he wants to see her — _touch her_.

Sometimes he'd get lucky and stumble upon her. Once she'd been talking with her Dothraki, they had welcomed her with cheers and she'd accepted a drink and he think she laughed with them, but her back had been turned to him, so he couldn't be sure. He likes to think she'd been laughing. She's always so controlled, so put together, what would unadulterated joy look like on her? What would wildness look on her? He knows she's capable of it just by how hard she works at staying controlled. It doesn't come easy to her, but it's what queens do. So she does.

Another time she'd been surrounded by her children, they'd taken turns being pet by her and it was apparent how much she loved them and them her.

Seeing her just made him brood even more, though; fantasize even more, yearn even more.

And now . . . Now he'd almost lost her, before he even really had her. It had just been yesterday he'd felt her lifeless body in his arms, carried her not knowing if she'd live or die. He'd done all he could to help her, caused her pain in the process, but now in the light of an new day, he knows she'll live. She hasn't woken yet, to his knowledge, but she's out of the woods.

 _And I still can't do anything about how I feel. I've repeatedly berated myself for not focusing on what's important, I've acted so selfishly only to call myself a fool a thousand times and yet I keep doing it, I keep losing focus of the enemy._

 _I've admitted it to myself, more like it hit me like a storm — I love her. Never in my life have I met someone so kind, so strong and beautiful. Someone that makes me feel — goddammit you're doing it again!_

 _No more stalling, no more being selfish I have to move forward and do what needs to be done. I need to focus, just because I'm a man in love doesn't mean I'm a man with the time for it._

Jon picks up his quill.

" _Dear Sansa,_

 _I hope this is finding you and the North in good health, please excuse me for not writing sooner. While all is well, there has been new developments, I can't elaborate fully to you now, but Daenerys Targaryen has landed in Westeros, with a powerful army and three dragons. She intercepted us as we were mining the glass but has allowed us free reign of it. She's at war to take the Iron Throne but I'm doing all I can to recruit her to face the real enemy. I'll write again as soon as I can._

 _-Jon Snow King in the North"_

As Jon finishes his note to his sister, taking great care to write ' _King in the North_ ' legibly so as to show clearly he hasn't bent the knee to the southern queen, and save his sister from worrying he has, he finds a new weight being dropped on his shoulders.

 _This, the battle, her injury, is only going to fuel Daenerys against Cersei, how am I going to convince her now that the White Walkers still need to take precedence when she's already tasted a victory against the Lannisters? She didn't end the war, but she's surely one step closer to getting what she wants, how am I supposed to convince her to abandon what she's worked for to face an enemy she's not even fully sure of? Not that she doesn't believe me, I saw her eyes, she believes. But she hasn't seen them, she hasn't seen what's coming for us all. Until you see them, you can't even imagine._

A knock sounds at his door and he calls for the visitor to enter, rolling up the parchment.

"Good, you're awake," Davos calls out setting a bowl of soup on his table.

"Hard to sleep in these times."

"Aye, that was hard business with the queen last night."

Jon eyes his food, careful not to meet Davos's eye.

"I was referring to the White Walkers." _Only a little bit of a lie._

" _Ahh_ , of course, that as well. So are you not interested in knowing she's awake?"

The King jerks and looks to his friend to find him smirking infuriatingly.

 _Awake? So soon?_

"She is?"

Davos nods.

"Well . . . That's good. I'm glad."

Davos turns and plops down on Jons bed, still smirking.

"Aye, tis. Also Missandei has informed me, we've been invited to dine with Her Grace and her counsel tonight."

Jon nods, trying not think too much into it. _Of course she would extend an invitation, it's what's proper of someone that just saved your life. That's all. A thank you._ That's all.

Jon ties up the note and hands it to Ser Davos wordlessly.

 _I can't lie, I'm happy I'll get to see her so soon, see how she's really doing, but I must spend this time convincing her of the real enemy. We all depend on it_

 **Mother of Dragons**

Daenerys gently smooths the very tips of her fingers on the place that just hours ago an arrow had protruded from and shutters at the feel of the bruised, puckered skin. She tucks her chin to look at it and sighs.

 _Well . . . It's only fitting I acquire some scars. I had just been in battle, after all. I'm sure Visenya Targaryen had dozens of scars. No big deal._

Dany looks up as her door opens, shifting her night gown back into place quickly, but it's only Missandei with fresh bandages so she continues on with her examination.

"How are you feeling, you grace?" Missandei asks, kneeling at her Queens feet and joins the inspection.

"Fine."

Missandei gives Dany a look, clearly not going to accept that answer.

Dany purses her lips but gives a real answer to her friend.

"Sore, very, _very_ sore, but mostly tired. I feel so exhausted, drained, and yet I can't go back to sleep."

She'd waded through the murky waters that is the in between state of fevered unconsciousness and awareness for what felt like ages. Every time she thought she'd step off the brink, ready to open her eyes and become accustomed to the latter again, she was yanked and thrown into a series of foreign images and intruding memories. None of which she can grip onto and really remember. Every time she tries to focus on any one image it seems to run from her. She has to quickly abandon searching too dedicatedly, the confusing swirl of images making her nauseous after too long.

"Do you remember what happened? When you landed? When the arrow was pulled? Anything?"

Dany shakes her head and removes her fingers from her shoulder as Missandei makes it clear it's time to redress it.

"The last thing I remember was my name being called right before I passed out, but even that I'm not sure of. What did happen?"

Missandei works diligently, not making eye contact which Dany finds all too convenient.

"Missandei, please, tell me."

She sighs but looks up, her eyes shining brightly with unshed tears.

"I'd heard a commotion at the door, pounding and yelling. When I opened it, you were cradled in Lord Snows arms. . . You looked — Daenerys, I'd thought you were de— de —" Missandei lets out a chocked sob and lays her head on Danys knees. Being careful of her arm, Dany leans her upper body to cradle her upset friend.

 _Jon held me? Gods be damned, the first time he touches me and I can't remember it!_

" _Shhh_ , I wasn't dead, not even close. Just hurt. Everything is fine now. Please don't cry for me."

"But you could have died! If the arrow had hit your heart? And you weren't wearing armor! I let you go without any armor!"

"We'll get me some armor, I promise. Just calm down — that's it, good, deep breaths. Now what happened next?"

She sniffles a few more times but with gentle, soothing touches she calms down enough to continue on.

"When I walked out Jon was holding you and fighting with Ser Jorah—"

"Ser Jorah is here?" Dany calls out, jerking her body painfully.

"Yes, my queen, you don't remember him? He helped Jon pull the arrow out. It was his idea to cauterize the wound."

Tears of happiness fill up in her eyes.

 _My bear has returned to me._

"Did he look well?"

Missandei smiles gently, nodding. "Stronger than ever, my queen."

Dany smiles in relief, her bear beat all the odds and returned to her side. She's worried for him everyday, and will continue to do so, but at least she won't have to wonder anymore what became of him.

It's as her heart settles at the good news she grasps onto fully what Missandei had said.

"They were fighting?"

Missandei bites her lip and pushes Danys long, free hair away so that she can replace the sling, only to backtrack realizing she'd have to get dressed first.

"Not fighting per se, although Ser Jorahs sword had been drawn, but only because you looked dead, the arrow as clear as day. They were having a disagreement more than anything."

"About?"

Missandei turns away, but not before Dany saw a sparkle in her deep brown eyes.

"About who would carry you, your grace."

Annoyance washes over the Queen.

 _Does that mans jealousy know no bounds?_

"I was lying unconscious with an arrow sticking out of me and they were arguing over me like I was a _toy_?"

Missandei turns back, panicked.

"Of course not, your grace! Jorah had only just met Lord Snow, he thought you were in danger in the foreign mans arms and vice versa. Jon wouldn't give you up to a stranger. I know Ser Jorah is in love with you, your grace, anyone could see it, but he didn't wish to take you out of jealousy, I don't believe, at least not completely, I don't know, I . . . I don't think I'm explaining this correctly."

"No, Missandei, I understand, you're right, I overreacted."

 _I know better than to misjudged Jorah in such a way, he may have feelings for me and he does hate any man that even speaks to me, trust that, but he wouldn't put that before my safety. At least not in the way I had just accused him of._

 _And neither would Jon Snow. We may have had our differences, but even when his words left a bad taste, the intent was nothing less than honorable. I just hate being on the opposing side of his honor._

Dany does find herself feeling sorry for Jorah though, seeing her in another mans arms, no matter the circumstances. Not to even mention once again she finds herself attracted to another man. But this time . . . It's all so much _more_.

 _You've just been to battle, almost lost Drogon, been shot, and have captured the Kingslayer and yet this is all you think about . . ._

Missandei continues to relay to Dany what happened, braiding her hair as she does and by the sound of it, she's glad she can't remember. The pain of it going in was enough, it's not a small blessing she can't remember it coming out.

Once finished she moves to the wardrobe to pick out an outfit only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.

Dany tugs her robe tighter around herself, cursing how thin the martial is as it clings to her breasts like a second skin. She finds herself hoping it's Jon, she wouldn't mind him seeing her in such a state . . .

Missandei opens the door to reveal the lined face of her bear. The hope she had to see Jon was crushed but another at seeing Ser Jorah fills her.

"Ser Jorah," she breathes, taking all of him in.

He walks in cautiously, barely making eye contact.

"My queen," he says, falling to one knee in a deep bow and then rising, still not keeping eye contact for more than a second at a time.

"You look strong," Dany compliments, her throat closing up with emotion and stepping closer. "You found a cure?"

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't. I've come to return to your services. If you'll have me." He asks in such a way that he fears she'll say no, cast him away even after making him find a cure, his betrayal unforgivable.

Dany walks to him and envelops him in a hug with her one good arm, silently telling him the past is behind them now. _For good_.

"It would be my honor." He hugs her back, and she sighs at the feel of him. She'll never love him as he does her, to which she sometimes finds regrettable, as it pains him so much. But she does love him and she promises to herself she'll make sure he'll never forget it.

She pulls back first to look up at him. "Thank you, for what you did, you saved my life last night."

"It was a group effort, your grace. Lord Snow was quite . . . apt."

Dany is taken off guard by the mild praise, from what Missandei told her Jon was quite a bit more than apt but she senses even saying that much was hard enough for Jorah.

Dany turns to Missandei, "Well then, I should properly show my appreciation. If you would be so kind as to offer an invitation on my behalf to Lord Snow and Ser Davos to dine with us tonight. And Gendry as well." The boy was an after thought but it would seem rude to leave him out.

Missandei bows her head and leaves the room to do as her queen bids.

"What happen Ser Jorah? Where did you go? How are you cured?"

Ser Jorah smiles down at her and tells her, what she senses, is a condensed version of what he had to go through. She does the same when he asks of the battle.

They fall silent and just stare at each other, unsure of how to proceed. It's only until she sees his eyes drift lower along her body, her robe doing very little to hide her modesty that she breaks the silence with the first thing to enter her mind.

"I have something for you."

Dany turns to one of the larger wardrobes in her room, opens it wide and moves aside for Ser Jorah to see the uniform she'd had made for him. Fine boiled leather with The Targaryen crest sew in red proudly on the chest, armor crafted in much the same fashion and everything else he'll need to keep his body safe and his station clear.

"Khaleesi, its magnificent." He breathes, reaching for it all.

"I had it made before we left Meereen. The Captain of my Queens Guard deserves nothing but the best."

Missandei enters again, drawing the attention of Dany but not Jorah. He remains awestruck by the fine, proud armor.

"Your grace, the Dothraki have returned. Your _Kos_ are taking your prisoners to the cells now."

 _That was fast, the winds must have been kind._

"Prisoners?" Jorah asks.

Dany looks to him. "Yes, I took two prisoners from the battle. The soldier that shot Drogon and Jamie Lannister." She turns back to Missandei. "Have Lannister put in a cell but the other one I will see in the throne room now. Actually Ser Jorah will you arrange that, I need Missandeis help dressing. I'll have all this sent to your rooms."

"Of course, Khaleesi."

Missandei and Jorah trade places and her friend helps her get ready for the day. Daenerys has trouble looking away from her reflection as she thinks back to the words of Euron Greyjoy.

" . . . — _I will join the legends of brave men that slayed the dragons_."

 _What to do with a man actually stupidly brave enough to stare down the mouth of a dragon?_

* * *

AN: not the most exciting chapter I'm sure but these little moments are some I always miss seeing In the show. Plus I gotta stock up on plot so, yeah. I can't wait till you all see my plans for the upcoming chapters!

please review!


	18. Death? Yours or Mine?

AN: thank you to those that review, please keep it coming you guys are my main motivation.

* * *

 **Eighteen: Death? Yours or mine?**

Mother of Dragons

Daenerys stares down at her prisoner from her throne unwavering. Her body is settled in a hard earned pretense of a relaxed state and she keeps her face devoid of all emotion. She just stares. She stares as he fidgets and squirms and looks anywhere but her.

She doesn't delude herself into thinking he's afraid of her in this moment. He stared down the flames of an actual dragon, pushed his comrade out of the way of those same flames from that same dragon, at a great risk to himself.

 _No, he's not afraid._

But not immune to her presence either.

 _I make him uncomfortable, at least._ Dany thinks only somewhat smugly, mostly perplexed.

He glances at her quickly, only to look to one of her bloodriders, all of them are now sporting armor and other garments and trinkets they picked off the fallen enemy soldiers.

It's with that thought that Dany notices what the man is wearing . . . Grubby, well worn leather. No armor or anything else that would identify who he was aligned with. He fought on the side of the Lannisters, and yet he's not dressed like one, nor even like a Tarly.

 _He's a sell sword . . ._

Her eyes narrow as she really looks at him, not just stares at him, but tries to really _see_ him.

 _The only time I've ever seen a sell sword go above and beyond to keep someone other than himself alive was Daario Naharis. But with Daario, he thought himself in love with me, he shared my bed, he had the favor of the Dragon Queen. He had a lot to lose if he lost me. And when he did lose me, he made it clear what was being taken from him, what was most important to him._

 _"Who comes after you? Who follows Daenerys Stormborn, the Mother of Dragons?"_

 _It doesn't bother me his feelings for me were all tied up in the glory of mounting me and not loving me, as he had claimed. Although I think he really did think he was in love with me, just as I thought I had cared for him as well. I knew what kind of man he was, I knew who I was allowing into my bed. He was my concubine and I his conquest and I can't find it in myself to be mad at either of us for it._

 _But what reason could this man have for being so dedicated to the Kingslayer? Doubtful they're lovers, that's for sure._

Dany glances down at her feet where a saddle bag of gold lays. Her _Kos_ , Niko, had presented it to her as he did the prisoner and said he'd found it on the battle field.

 _The only thing Sell Swords care about universally is gold, but is there really any amount grand enough to pay for his life? To pay for him to risk his life against a dragon? It's not as if he can take it with him to the grave._

When he'd been behind the oversized crossbow that was one thing, that was for the glory of slaying a dragon, no other way you'd face off against one in Daenerys opinion, unless your ego led you. But when he came within inches of the flame all to save the Kingslayers life . . . that's another thing entirely.

Dany breaks the silence, losing the game in the process but it doesn't bother her too much.

"What is your name?"

His eyes drift to her but he keeps his head cocked to the side where he'd been focused on one of her riders with his new longsword clutched to his hip. That is until his eyes twitch to the gold at her feet.

"Ser Bronn of the fucking Blackwater . . . _Your grace_." He bows mockingly, his shackles rattling.

" _Ser_ _Bronn_ _of the fucking Blackwater_ ," Dany repeats slowly, recognizing the name immediately, her mood darkening as she does.

"You're Tyrions sell sword."

 _This is the man that practically left her Hand for dead at his trial._

"I was. Not anymore."

"Now you're the Kingslayers?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"No? You'd jump through flames for just anyone?"

Bronn opens his mouth to reply but thinks better of whatever he had to say and smirks.

"I did work for that one handed cunt, but seeing as he's rottin' in a cell right about now, and can't pay me anymore, means I'm a free agent." He winks to her.

 _Swarmy bastard._

"So you'd be looking for work then?"

"Seems I would."

"How much would it cost me to hire you?"

He glances at the gold at her feet again. "Depends on the job."

"Food."

He looks to her with confused, bloodshot eyes.

"Come again?"

"How much would it cost me to hire you as _food_. My dragon, Drogon, you've been acquainted already, is very hungry. And very angry at you."

He looks around to the men surrounding them as if to see if any of them gets the joke.

"What good would anything you got to give me be if I was dead," he asks as if he's speaking to someone completely daft.

"Why would you risk yourself the way you did to save a man you'd abandon soon after," Dany challenges in turn.

He tongues the inside of his bottom lip and looks to her with shifty eyes.

"I protect my investments as best I can. Can't protect that sister fucker anymore, which leaves me open to new possibilities."

Part of Dany thinks he's somewhat telling the truth. She wouldn't consider herself impervious to lies, some liars are better than others, but after having experienced magic induced visions, being led to one dream of hers after another and not falling for the ruse, it does teach one how to see past a lot. Discern what words are human infliction and what is the truth.

"Bronn," her Hand calls out in a sing song, striding into the great room with his own guards, "still an unrelenting businessman as usual, I see."

Bronn smiles softly, shifting his head as Tyrion walks past him and to his Queens side.

"Oh, you know me, I like to be on the winning side."

 _Of course you do._

Queen and Hand give eachother a long meaningful look made up of a thousand, thousand words in just a moments time.

"You're a _bit_ late, but I could see how being on the wrong side of Dragons can change a mans mind." Tyrion turns to face his old friend, their small moment exhausting but unfinished.

"It was just the one dragon, but aye it does promote some reflection."

Bronns eyes fill with a great deal of affection for the Lannister.

Dany eyes the back of Tyrions head, his unkempt hair and dust stained clothes telling her he didn't even bother to freshen up before seeing to the matter at hand.

Dany mentally sighs. _I didn't think we'd have to cross this bridge so soon. When I put that Hand of the Queen pin on him I knew there was going to be a time when he'd have to choose. But now he'll have to do it twice._

"Too bad you're not going to live long enough for it to matter." Dany croons with false sympathy.

A ripple runs through Tyrion as he tenses up, but doesn't make any other movements.

"Your grace, I know this man, he — he could be of some use."

Dany cocks her head. " _Oh_?"

She catches sight of his searching eye, the clever Dwarf having some trouble coming up with something to say.

"Yes . . . Well, he's quite skilled in battle —"

"I have tens of thousands of Dothraki at my back, I'm not sure one skilled sell sword will tip the balance."

"Yes, true, but he's also very brave! You saw it. He —"

"— _Shot my child,_ " Dany seethes.

"And I allied with the woman that poisoned my niece."

To _that_ , Dany knows she has no argument.

 _Tyrion is a clever man indeed, and in just a short time has grown to know me well. He knows the fact that this man was fearless enough to peak my interests. Tough men are a dime a dozen. Brazen, fearless men like him are a bit more rare._

In this aspect he reminds her a great deal of Daario. She's just not sure how she feels about it.

"I was aiming for _you_ ," Bronn calls out mockingly, "if that makes you feel any batter, your grace."

Dany hears Tyrion swear under his breath as she rises but Bronns not finished yet.

"Looks like someone else stuck ya with one, instead. Is that a fever I see in your eyes?"

 _He's an idiot to be sure_ , but she could maybe use a man like that with what she has in mind. _But not as he is_. He'll not be swayed by affection for her as the people of Meereen were. _No, he doesn't care who sits on the throne. But he does care about Tyrion._ No other reason Dany can see, why he'd risk himself they way he did for the Kingslayer, Tyrions beloved brother.

 _But he'd betrayed Tyrion once._

 _He can't be left completely without fear. I learned a hard lesson on that battlefield, I and my children are not as indestructible as I'd thought, which made me Look weak to him. He needs to be taught different_.

Dany consciously stops herself from grabbing at her elbow as the sling pulls uncomfortably and smirks at the joker before her.

"Not a fever, no," she says softly, stepping down and turning to one of the braziers and stares into the fire.

"I must congratulate you, Ser Bronn, you may have missed your mark, but you did have me for a second there."

She turns from the fire and speaks out in Dothraki.

"Niko, would you please roll up my sleeve."

Her rider glares at the sell sword before turning and coming up to her. With more gentleness than she though possible for the man, he softly rolls up the sleeve of her good arm. When she looks into his eyes, she sees a familiar heat, a heat she's seen in many mens eyes directed at her, but only felt in her own a time or two.

It's then she remembers the Dothraki usually find the nearest woman to take after a battle, by any means. But besides herself and Missandei, there's no women to be found.

The look does stir something in her, but she looks back to the fire. Niko is not the man she wants to see looking at her like that, especially now she has to worry about thousands of sexually frustrated men that are going to be at each other's throats.

If they can't fuck, they'll fight and Dothraki fights are to the death.

 _Shit_.

When her sleeve is securely folded to her elbow she looks back to Bronn.

"It's a lucky thing for me the blood of the dragon is stronger than your arrow."

Never looking from his eyes, she sticks her hand in the fire and gropes around for a coal. When she does find one she doesn't retract her hand immediately, the heat too pleasant on her skin.

Every time she feels the initial lick of the flames it feels as if she's where she's supposed to be. As soon as she encounters the heat, her untouched skin feels like it's made of ice, screaming out to be melted.

To Bronns credit, he shows no emotion to what he's seeing than the widening of his eyes. Most people would gasp or stumble back. Or kneel. But he just looks on shocked.

 _Not good enough._

She removes her hand, the coal held delicately in her finger tips so that it doesn't lose its flame, and walks towards him. The flame resting on the coal has her full attention, the beauty of it so pure of heart and clean of error. It's simple. It's powerful. It's _hers_.

As she gazes into it, walking carefully but fluidly with all the grace of a queen, she tries to think of something clever to say. Someway to tie a wise word into the situation, to weave her voice and the hunger of the flame together.

And she comes up empty.

She looks to the sell sword and smothers a smile.

His eyes are glued to the flames as hers were. And they're terrified.

 _Looks like I don't have to say a word._

Dany subtly shifts the coal back and forth, working up a faster pace gradually until she's waving it to and fro right in front of his face, his eyes moving with it in perfect sync.

 _What in the world?_

She wanted him to see what she's capable of, that she is a dragon, one in the same with the magnificent creature he failed to slay.

She didn't mean to . . . _Hypnotize_ him.

She drops the coal to the floor between them and he jerks to awareness stepping away from her and staring at her with wide, incredulous eyes.

" _What was that_! How did you do that?" He grounds out, breathing heavy.

Dany gasps. _He had a vision, he saw something in the flame!_

"What did you see?" Dany steps forward urgently as Bronn stumbles further away from her.

"How did you do that?!" He yells, spittle flying from his small chapped lips.

Dany rushes to him and grabs his chin, her heated flesh sinking into his cheeks.

"Tell me what you saw!"

"Daenerys!"

Bronn cries out throatily and rips his face from her hand, his chin and cheeks marred with her harsh, red hand print.

Dany is the one to stumble back now. She hadn't meant to touch him, but doesn't feel too bad about it. She's no idea what to do with the man, but he still injured her child. As for now he's still her enemy, and he'll be given every ounce thought she's always given her enemies.

He looks to her with wild eyes clutching his face with his shackled hands. There's no burnt flesh smell so she knows the burns aren't too bad, they won't even scar, but they'll hurt like hell.

" _What. Did. You._ _See_."

He shakes his head.

" _Death_."

Then he passes out, his head hitting the stone floor with a sickening sound.

"Bronn!" Tyrion cries out and rushes to his friend, kneeling beside him.

"What did you do to him?"

Dany just mindlessly shakes her head as Bronn had his, until she gets a grip on herself and commands her blood riders to put him in a cell.

Turning away from her Hand she contemplates what he could have meant.

 _He didn't say his death, or hers or any one specific death. He just said 'death'._

 _Death. All encompassing death._

She doesn't want to admit it to herself, but it's no coincidence he looked into a flame and saw a vision as if he were one of The Lord of Lights chosen.

Jon Snow and the cave paintings of demonicly luminescent blue eyes flash through her mind.

 _Fuck._

* * *

AN: Fun fact when I first thought of this scene, it was waaaaaaay different, Bronn wasn't going to originally have a vision. Literally it wasn't as I was writing it that it just came out that way, so please let me know if you guys enjoyed that he saw something or if he should have just been taught a lesson and anything else you thought about the chapter! Thanks so much for reading please review!


	19. Supper

AN: Hello? Anyone still there? Yeah? Alright, good. Phew. Sorry about that.

Huge thank you to HORNIE DEMON, (awesome name btw) I can't tell you how great it was to see that you caught up on my story and reviewed to every chapter as you did so, reviews are my candy and you dumped the whole bowl into my bag and it made my day(s), so this chapter is dedicated to you, hope you (and everyone else) likes it, sorry it's taken me so long.

Once again so sorry for taking so long RL got in the way, but for those of you wondering if I lost inspiration I'm happy to report a big fat NOPE. I've had this story planned out since the very beginning, this chapter in particular was I believe the third or fourth concept I imagined when forming the story in my head and I'm happy to be back writing it.

finally sorry if this chapter is riddled with spelling mistakes, I've been working on it for so long the thought of dealing with it another second made me want to cry so I only went over once looking for corrections that need to be made. Hope it's not too bad/distracting.

* * *

 **Nineteen: Supper**

King in the North

Jon stares blankly at the stone carved dragon protruding proudly from the wall opposite him. The whole castle is littered with the impressive sculptures, but so far Jon finds this one to be his favorite.

 _Too bad it's sitting in a dark corridor and not displayed somewhere more fitting._

Jon tears his gaze away only to look down at his boots and leans against an undecorated stone wall outside the queens personal dinning hall.

He should be inside of it, awaiting her grace with everyone else, but the thought of idly waiting while also in the presence of Theon Greyjoy, filled him with disgust.

It had been a Greyjoy ship that day, alright.

 _Jon had journeyed down to meet the ship and watched as a dozen men, Theon along them, land on the shore._

 _He kept his calm as long as he could, especially with Missandei present he didn't want to cause a scene, but as soon as the son of a bitch uttered Sansas name, he snapped and began beating him to near death. No one tried to help Theon just as no tried to stop Jon. The Iron born and Dothraki alike don't disrupt beatings and Davos knows just as well as Jon what the bastard did._

 _Theon himself didn't even try to stop it, something Jon is sure he's paid for with the men he still has left._

 _When Jons fury calmed down enough to know he needed to stop least he kill him, he halted his fists and climbed off the broken boy._

 _"The only reason," he heaved out, his gravely voice filled with contempt, "I'm not fucking killing you is because of what you did for her."_

 _Honor demanded of Jon he let him live, so he did, but he couldn't let him get away without some punishment, not after what he did to his family, not just his sister but everyone that bore the Stark name. It's not his name, but it's his blood._

 _Jon strode away, sweat and blood dripping from his brow, Dothraki screamers looking on impressed, and Theon Greyjoy sobbing in the sand._

Jon straightens at the sound of footsteps and turns to see Daenerys, Missandei and Ser Jorah walking towards him.

Jon tries not to stare at the sling clutching Daenerys arm to her middle, his throat tightening at the memory of having to help pull the arrow from where it had been imbedded in flesh and muscles and bone.

Missandei smiles at Jon, "Lord Snow, I hope your hand is healing well."

Jon instinctually looks to his bandaged hand before praising Missandeis healing skills, causing the tall woman to smile shyly, but pleased.

A heavy silence overtakes them until the queen speaks.

"Missandei, Ser Jorah, would you please give us a moment?"

Jorah looks like he wants to object, but thinks better of it and follows Missandei dutifully into the feasting hall, leaving the two young monarchs to themselves.

Jon looks deep into The Dragon Queens eyes, flashbacks of yesterday shifting through his mind. The feel of her body cradled in his, the fear of losing her even though she's not his to lose, his muscles cramp remembering her pain and his mind is left in wonder recalling the sight of her skin unmarked from the red hot metal.

"You're looking well, Your Grace." More than well, even with baggy, bloodshot eyes, she looks a vision. Today she's wearing another gown instead of the leather trousers he's become accustomed to seeing her in, the deep red bodice hugs her curves so perfectly the hint of an imprint of her nipples are visible and it takes everything Jon has not to stare, but instead eyes her sling again when his gaze had turned improper.

 _Even injured she's the definition of a perfect lady._

Jon thinks to his sisters of which he finds the best of both worlds in her. _Sansa always loved the songs of gallant Knights and their beautiful Ladies, I can't say if that's still true with all she's endured but I'd venture to guess she'd be as taken by the Queen as she's ever been before. And Arya always wanted to be a warrior, Daenerys own ancestors her deeply beloved heroines. If she were able to see the Dragon Queen in flight I've no doubt she'd . . ._

Jon abandons that train of thought, his little sister is gone and until he can properly mourn her it does him no good to think of her now.

"I cannot thank you enough, for what you did for me," Daenerys says, "I had no strength left and probably would have died if you hadn't been there."

Jons breath comes out heavy and his manhood hardens from hearing a rare softness in her voice, like none he's ever heard from her before and looks into her otherworldly lilac eyes; Targayen eyes — all thoughts of his sisters gone.

"Someone would have found you, your dragons were making their displeasure known quite loudly, anybody would have been able to tell something was wrong."

Daenerys cups her injured arm at the elbow and looks deeply into Jons eyes, searching for something. _What_? Jon couldn't tell.

Jon takes a step forward knowing he probably won't find a better time to speak his peace.

"In any case, I'm glad I was there to be the one to help, after what I said to you in the caves . . . I'm deeply sorry, Your Grace."

Jon wanted to say so much more but couldn't find the words, not with her looking up at him with those beautiful searching eyes.

"Thank you," she breathes, "I owe you an apology as well."

Jon looks to her shocked, not expecting her to say anything of the sort.

"Your Grace, I—"

Daenerys steps forward.

"I did not treat you fairly, Jon Snow. My past experiences with the masters has — . . . I should have treated you with the respect due to you."

Without realizing it Jon steps even closer to her.

"I don't understand." But he did, he just didn't want it to be a figment of his imagination.

Dany has to crane her neck up to look at him without her heeled boots.

"You're a King, elected by your people. I should have treated you thusly."

Jon is so close to her now he can feel the heat radiating from her wound, the smell of the poultice masking her natural scent to his dismay.

A dozen emotions rush through him at her words, but under it all, all he can think of is how _wrong_ this is. He's a bastard, a Lords bastard yes, but a bastard all the same.

 _In what world does this make any sense?_

Jon doesn't dwell long on that thought though, he can't and keep his demeanor. Instead, despite his self deprecating thoughts, he accepts the Queens words, knowing they couldn't have been easy for her to say.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I'm going to venture to say this isn't going to change your goal for me to bend the knee and hand over the North."

Danys smirks, fanning the fire in Jons belly, as well as answering his question.

"I'm an ambitious woman . . . Your Grace."

Jon bites his lip, humor pouring out of his gaze, "That last bit was a tad painful to say, wasn't it?"

"More than the bloody arrow," Daenerys replies immediately, making both of them grin and chuckle at each other momentarily.

Daenerys looks down, shattering the moment, and an awkward silence washes over them.

 _The Gods have never made anyone so beautiful before._

Jon wishes he could say that to her, and so much more, but instead proposes they join the waiting dinner guests.

"Yes, I've held up supper for long enough."

Jon holds the door open for the woman that has irrevocably changed him and prepares himself for a very long evening.

 **Mother of Dragons**

The quiet chatter cuts off as Dany and Jon walk in, everyone stands and waits for Her Grace to be seated.

Daenerys takes her place at one end of the table but is caught off guard by the beaten face of Theon Greyjoy.

 _Gods the battle must have been gruesome to have left him in an almost unrecognizable state of discolored, abused flesh._

"How are you feeling Lord Theon?" Dany asks.

Theon stands awkwardly and speaks to his shoes, "I've been better, Your Grace, I wanted to pay you my respects, but with your leave, I'd like to retire for the night."

Dany nods and tells him they'll speak privately later.

As Theon takes his leave Dany notices the only one yet to join them is her Hand.

 _No doubt speaking to his sell sword or brother._

"I doubt Lord Tyrion will mind us beginning without him." Dany waves her hand to their small feast and her dinner guests begin grabbing at the food, her Kos the most eager.

Missandei helps with Danys plate graciously not making too big of a fuss of her injured arm while everyone, besides Gendry who would seem to rather sulk, begins to eat.

"Is the food not to your liking, Gendry?"

The brooding boy snaps out of his daze and throws Daenerys a quick look before taking his share.

 _Gods, I hope Tyrion arrives soon, he'll most likely know how to lighten the mood._

"How is your arm, your grace?"

Dany smiles at Ser Davos and laughs off her injury while also thanking him for his help.

Another moody silence settles, the scrapping of forks on plates ear splitting to the uncomfortable queen. The only ones seemingly unaware of the awkwardness are her Bloodriders too busy examining each other's food and betting one another to eat it first when they don't recognize a dish.

"May I ask you a question, your grace," Gendry calls out of nowhere.

Dany sips some wine and stares at him over her cup before nodding. "Of course."

"Will you actually do it? Sentence the Red Woman to death if she comes back to Westeros?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

Gendry shrugs, "I've no idea how much you word means."

"Gendry," Davos calls out sternly as Jon Snow, sitting on the far end of the table closest to the boy, stares daggers at him.

"No, that's quite alright, Ser Davos, let the boy speak."

"I'm not a boy, I'm only a little younger than you and I've faced things, robbers, krackens, that witch that tricked me put leeches on me, wanted to kill —"

"Tricked you," Danys asks with a chuckle, "Seduced you, you mean?"

"She didn't seduce me! She — she—," Gendry sputters.

Dany looks to him slightly mockingly, unable to help herself when it comes to the lad.

"— Seduced you." She finished for him, taking a bite of her meat and shaking her head.

 _Of course he was seduced by her, he is a man after all. Only one strong enough to put his senses before his cock would have been able to resist, and he is definitely not the type._

"You don't know that!"

"Of course she does," Tyrion calls out as he enters the hall, clean and presentable for dinner, "she's a woman, she knows the work of her own kind when she sees it."

He passes by her smiling widely at her raised eyebrow as he settles into the chair reserved for him at her right.

"Dangerous creatures; beautiful women are." He grabs for the wine grinning at his Queen who in turn is having trouble not grinning along. "So . . . How was the Red woman? Did the carpet mat—?"

Gendry curses and jumps out of his chair fleeing the room.

"Well, that was fun," Tyrion chuckles into his cup.

"You shouldn't have teased the boy, Melisandre did mean him real harm." Dany chides gently, speaking to herself as much as her Hand.

"Yes, your right, but a wise man once said —"

"— oh, shut up," Dany groans making the dwarf laugh and start collecting food.

"As my Queen commands."

Dinner continues more naturally, the only ones not bothered at all by the still slightly charged air being the Dothraki, who were proudly showing off how far they've come learning the Common Tongue, thanks to Missandei.

Dany could almost let herself forget her duties awaiting her, until Niko asks about the cave sketches.

Dany contemplates telling him they'll talk about it later with her Westerosi guests never being none the wiser as he had asked in Dothraki, his common tongue not advanced enough, but ultimately can't bring herself to.

Dany sighs and looks to Jon.

"Niko has inquired about the cave paintings."

Jons spine straightens and he turns to Niko and begins explaining their existence and what it all means as Missandei translates.

All of the Dothraki warriors start to become excited as they learn the danger the White Walkers bring, how impossible they seem to defeat.

Jorah, also hearing the news for the first time, looks on appropriately worried.

 _Well, if they ever do need to face the Dead at least the Dothraki will have fun with the challenge of an 'unstoppable' enemy. No matter how many of them die._

"Khaleesi," Xhargo calls out excitedly, then as best he can in the common tongue says, "When do we get to battle these dead men?"

Danys sighs and tells him she doesn't know.

Jon lets out a disappointed breath and shakes his head

 _For the love of the Gods, this has got to stop._

Daenerys drops her fork, leans back in her chair and stares at the King in the North.

"And what would you have me do?"

It takes Jon a few seconds to realize it's him she was talking to, but when he does he looks up like he's been caught doing something naughty.

 _Gods, he's handsome._

"I would never presume—"

"You're not presuming anything, I've asked your opinion. You want me to abandon my war for yours, as if that's such a simple thing to do, so tell me if you were in my shoes, what would you do?"

Jon looks around the full table self-consciously, but drops his own fork and seemingly unconsciously mimics Danys posture.

"I'd turn my attention to the real threat. The Night King and his army, no matter what."

Dany looks on unimpressed.

"The real enemy? So Cersei is not a real enemy? She's not a danger? Do I have to remind you i'm not the only one she sees as a Usurper, or have you forgotten I'm not the only one you're rebelling against."

"She's not as much a danger as The Night King, you'd agree if you saw him."

"So I should drop everything, travel North and fight beside you and your people, all of which will probably despise me on sight?"

Jon mulls over the queens words carefully before responding.

"It's true my people will be . . . Weary, at first, but once they see you intend to help it's not as if they'd send you away. Look, I know it's not ideal, but Cersei can wait, the White Walkers can not."

The dueling King and Queen stare at each other over the table, neither willing to break eye contact first.

"That is where you're wrong, Jon Snow. The only way to deal with a snake about to attack you is to cut its head off. Cersei is not like you, she doesn't fight her own battles or face her enemies head on — she hires people to get their hands dirty for her. Here at Dragonstone I'm safe from whatever sneaky, devious plan she could hatch. With all my Dothraki and with my Unsullied back on their way there is no way for her to breach my defenses."

Daenerys finds herself second guessing that thought as soon as she says it, in reality she's never completely safe, but Dragonstone is definitely her best option.

"But if I were to travel North surround by people that will only see my father when they look at me, how long do you think it would take for someone to get paid off? I've not survived the amount of assassins I have to do something so foolish as to walk into anything that could be turned into a lions den."

"Queen Daenerys is right," Tyrion says, "It could take naught even a week before someone is offered a handsome reward from my sister for the Queens head, especially in the North — ah don't look at me like that Jon, I know you love your people but even you must admit they can be a bit fickle. I blame the cold you all insist on subjecting yourselves to."

"Tyrions right," Ser Jorah nods, "I may not have been back home in some time but I know the North even better than you, Snow. The Khaleesi will not find many friends there, only shadows waiting with daggers."

Daenerys fidgets slightly with the tone of voice Jorah said Snow, but let's it pass, as Jon gropes for something to say all the while looking resigned.

Dany wants to make him see reason, tell him there's no way he can beat The Night King, Cersei and Herself. If he were smart he'd bend to her, he'd put his people before his, not his pride, it's not his pride driving him, Dany can see that now, but his honor. He's duty bound to do what is right for the people that elected him, but he's not doing what's best for them by withstanding from her. His people, The North, can't win all three wars, and if he bent to her he'd only have to fight two, both of which he'll fight with Dragons on his side.

And he'd have to defeat all three of them, alright, it just depends on which one happens first.

Not that she wants to go to war with him. Quite the opposite. Nor does she want him to face the Night King alone, but he won't meet anywhere near the middle.

With that thought Dany jerks in her seat, making Jon look up swiftly to see the change in her.

"You say the Night King hasn't tried to pass the wall yet . . . Why?"

"If the stories are to be believed, The Wall was made using spells to keep the undead from passing."

"So, if the wall has magic infused in it, would they need something special to counter act the spells?"

"That's what we've all been under the impression of, the stories say there's a horn, that if sounded, will make the wall crumble from the inside out."

"Do you believe that?"

"I've no idea what can make the wall fall," Jon sighs.

"For arguments sake lets say it is a horn, if he had it, would he have used it already to make the wall fall?"

"I see your point, yea, I think he would have used whatever it was by now to bring the wall down if he had it."

"So . . . That means there's still a little time," Varys asks, "The wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumably."

"In theory there could be, but that's the problem, we don't know. He could find what he needs today or tomorrow and that would be the end for all of us, that's why we need to band together and fight now, before it's too late."

"Have you not been listening," Daenerys demands through clinched teeth, "not only would I be too much at risk, have you considered the fact that the moment I march in, Cersei will take back half the country."

"Perhaps not," Tyrion interjects, a dazed look in his eyes. "Cersei thinks the army of the dead is just a story made up by wet nurses to scare children. What if we show her the truth."

"I doubt she'd come at my invitation," Jon remarks with a rye smile.

"So bring the dead to her."

"That's what I've been trying to avoid."

"You don't have to bring the whole army, just one solider."

"Is that possible," Davos asks, mirroring everyone's thoughts.

Jon leans forward, deep in his own thoughts. "The first Wight I ever saw was brought into castle black beyond the wall. . ."

"Bring one of these things down to Kings Landing and show her the truth. Perhaps then we can broker a truce."

Davos shakes his head, "Anything we bring back will be useless unless Cersei grants us an audience and with the way you lot talk about her, what are the chances of that?"

Dany shuts her eyes as Varys looks to her with his patented . . . Varys-y look.

 _Gods dammit._

"Ah, yes," Varys coos, "if only we had something to convince her not to murder us the moment we step into the Capital."

"Don't play coy, Lord Varys, its tedious," Dany chastise, opening her eyes to see a smirking eunuch.

A sly smile stays on his face as a single tear trails down his plump powdered cheek.

"I meant no offense, Your Grace."

Dany somewhat playfully narrows her eyes at the spider. "Spent some time in Qarth have we, My Lord?"

"Oh, a little," he giggles, not bothering to wipe away the tear. "Tell me, how is my dear friend Xaro Xhoan Daxos, hmm?"

Dany smiles ruefully at the all knowing whisper master.

"Last time I saw him, nice and secure."

"Good."

"What are you talking about," The King in the North interjects, looking from Queen to advisor.

Dany doesn't bother to explain her misadventures in Qarth and instead focuses back in on Varys original point.

"During the battle, I captured Jamie Lannister. He's sitting in a cellar as we speak." Daenerys takes a long pull from her glass.

 _Well, didn't that wrap itself in a nice little bow. Yet another plan, that admittedly could work, where Tyrions family remains unscathed._

Dany hates her own thoughts, but she can't help but wonder once again, _will Tyrion ever be able to truly battle against his family, particularly his beloved brother? When the time comes and he must make a choice, whom will he chose?_

Jon straightens, a hopeful glint in his steel gaze, "That is a mighty bargaining chip."

"It'll all be for nothing if we can't get one of these dead men, we don't know exactly where they are." Dany gripes, not liking this at all, but unable to argue its merit.

"Fair point," Varys says, "how do you suppose we find one?"

Jorah stands, "With your permission, Khaleesi, I'll go North and take one."

Daenerys looks to her captain startled.

 _You've only just returned to me._

As if he could read her mind he reasons his request. "You made me find a cure so that I could serve you, allow me to serve you."

"Even if you did go, the North is too large and we've no idea where exactly they are."

"The Free Folk Will help us, they know the real North better than anyone," Jon says standing and a deep ache settles in Danys belly.

 _Gods no. . ._

"They won't follow Ser Jorah," Davos interjects.

"They won't have to," The King in the North declares.

 _Gods, no!_

Davos jumps to his feet, "You can't led a raid behind the Wall, you're not in the Nights Watch anymore, you're _King_ in the North!"

"I'm the only one here who's fought them. I'm the only one here who knows them and I'm the only one the Free Folk will listen to."

 _I think I'm going to be sick._

"I haven't given you permission to leave."

 _No, that's not what I wanted to say! Tell him how you feel! Tell him we'll find another way, keep him from this fucking suicide mission!_

He turns to her with a fire in his eyes.

"With respect, Your Grace, I don't need your permission, I am a king." He looks in her eyes knowing she'll be adequately reminded of her words before they entered the dining haul.

"I could have tried to leave this island as soon as you arrived, fleeing wouldn't have been an impossible task, but I stayed, and I put my trust in you to not have your armies kill me or your dragons burn me alive, because I knew it was the best chance for my people, for all of our people. Now I'm asking you, to put your trust in a stranger cause it's the only shot we got."

Before she could say anything one of the guards stationed at the door announced visitors, needing to see her.

"Khaleesi!" A young Dothraki soldier comes rushing in, behind him two of his fellow riders carrying a long chest between them.

"A small ship floated on land with this in it, it has your name carved in it."

Daenerys stands and pushes her chair away to make room for the chest on the table and Daenerys sees her name is indeed carved deep in the dark, splintered wood.

"A small ship?"

"He probably meant a row boat, your grace," Missandei says.

Daenerys nods her head for them to open the chest.

"Wait!" Ser Jorah calls out in Dothraki, walking over to stand in front of his Queen in case something were to jump out.

He nods his head at the riders and they open the chest.

"What is it?" Dany asks trying to peer around Ser Jorahs large, armored frame.

"Khaleesi . . . " he says with a confused air about the word, moving slightly so she could get a look.

The contents of the chest puzzled her.

It wasn't nearly as deep as one would expect, not at all actually. A single piece of paper rests on a panel situated so near the top of the opening you'd be hard pressed to fit anything other other than a piece of paper on it.

"It's alright, Ser Jorah, let me through."

Jorah does as he is commanded and Daenerys picks up the letter. It's folded simply only once with no seal or crest of any kind. It's a short note but it takes Dany only a moment to know it's written in a language she does not speak.

"Missandei is this a language you know of?"

She takes the paper, looking at it for the same amount of time her queen did.

"It's Old Ghiscari, Your Grace."

Dany couldn't be anymore intrigued and her dinner guests all lean forward as well as Missandei begins translating in a strong, clear voice.

"It says, ' _A gift for the Breaker of Chains: I searched hard and long and was finally able to procure this for you, my Queen. I hope this will serve as a token of my reverence and solidarity to you, and know that I am doing all I can to be a service to you from afar until I can join your forces in truth and be the sword by your side. This artifact was not easy to find but the hunt was worth it knowing it'll be reunited with your family, lift the panel in the chest and you will find_. . . "

Missandei squints at the paper, leaving Dany completely confused. She should be desperate to know what's inside the chest but she can't for the life of her guess what her family lost that could supposedly be in there.

 _We've lost everything, there's just too much to choose from._

She finds herself hoping it's her mothers pawned crown.

"The ink is smudged but I believe it says —" Missandei focuses harder and finishes unsure of herself, " . . . Dark Sister?"

Everyone in the room aware of what those words mean, gasps, Daenerys loudest of all.

Missandeis head shoots up from the paper.

"What? What is Dark Sister?"

No one answers her, everyone is too focused on Daenerys slowing reaching out to the chest.

After a bit of probbing she finds a grove in the panel and lifts it up slowly, both savoring the moment if it proves true but also terrified of disappointment.

Resting in blood red velvet is indeed a sword.

A long sword with a slim black handle, a gold cross-guard and a gold pommel carved to resemble flames, the blade itself is sheaved in a fine black leather scabbard, Dragons embossed along its length.

Tears brim to Daenerys eyes but she does all she can to make sure they don't fall.

 _It could still be a fake. Remember that, Daenerys. Don't be seduced_.

Dany reaches out and glides her finger tips along the sword as everyone crowds around to get a look.

"What do you think the chances are, Ser Jorah," Dany asks quietly, tracing the proud Dragons.

"We won't know until we inspect it, Khalessi."

"Gendry was a Smiths apprentice," Ser Davos calls out, leaning over his King to get a look at the sword, "he'll be able to tell us something about it, I'm sure. Although anybody could identify Valyrian steel."

"Yes, but it's not always so easy to tell how old the forge is," Varys points out, "Once no longer freshly foraged it's anyone's guess, more or less."

"My sword is Valyrian steel," Jon says, staring at Dany, a glint in his eyes, "It's centuries old, you can use it to compare."

Dany, after agreeing to send for Gendry and Jon Snows Sword, grabs a hold of the grip and lifts it up for inspection.

Although it does have a good weight to it she finds it's surprisingly light, not at all what she expected. Nonetheless the sword felt alien to her.

She looks to Jorah to unsheathe it, her injured arm making it impossible for her to do so herself.

At the sight of it bared even a little, Dany could see it was in fact Valyrian steel. The way the metal swirled was unmistakeable and could never be duplicated by any other material than her ancestors steel.

Dany has no idea how long it took for her riders to return with Gendry, her attention to what could be in her hand too thrilling and terrifying to think of anything else.

 _It's so beautiful, and even if it's not Dark Sister, it's still a Valyrian sword — that means something_.

"You summoned me, Your Grace," Gendry says, eyeing the sword in her hand.

"Ser Davos said you were a Smiths apprentice, could you examine this sword for me?"

He nods, the remnants of a sour look still on his face. He respectfully holds a hand out for the object and Dany transfers it over to him, unhappy to no longer be touching it.

"It's Valyrian steel, for sure, nothing else could make these patterns. From the looks of the long grip and long, slim blade, looks to have been made for someone slight of figure —"

"A woman, mayhaps," Ser Jorah says, looking down at Dany with a small smile on his lips.

Gendry looks to him appreciatively, "Aye, could be."

Danys heart soars. Dark Sister had been wielded by men, but it was said it was originally forged by a female Warrior. That was only rumor but the fact the Visenya Targarygen, Daenerys direct ancestor, wielded it fiercely — was not.

Another rider enters offering Dany Jon Snows Sword, the grip pointed towards her.

She looks to him and awaits his permission. He nods immediately in good faith and Dany quickly took a hold of the grip, the white wolf pummel gleaming smartly and pulled the much heavier sword from the Scabbard.

She forced herself to hold the larger sword steady, not wanting to embarrass herself in front of a room filled with highly trained fighters.

Gendry was quick to point out everything his trained eye could about the two swords, the difference in weight, cut, structure. One similarity was quickly apparent though, even to the untrained eye. Neither was freshly forged.

Dany eyed the supposed Dark Sister in Gendrys hand, hoping it to be genuine, but unable to contain her excitement over having a Valyrian Steel sword either way.

 _Even if it's not the original heirloom, it could always become one—_

Her thoughts are soured as she remembers the fact that she's alone, there will be no one to pass it on to.

"Your Grace," Missandei says softly as Danys eyes dance with more unshed tears, "what did Dark Sister mean?"

Daenerys ignores the small jerk Gendry produces and continues her inspection and answers her friend.

"It's the name of my family's sword. It's been lost for a very long time." The queens voice trails off softly.

 _Gods, I wish there was a way to be sure if this truly is Dark Sister. Could I just go by faith? Faith in the strangers words?_

It was with that thought Daenerys was reminded of the conversation that had been interrupted.

"Thank you for your expertise, Gendry, that will be all." The young man hands . . . Dark Sister over to Ser Jorah as Dany eyes Jons Sword painfully.

She montions for her rider to hold the scabbard out for her. Once in it's home, she grabs the weapon again and extends it to The King in the North.

His eyes widen and he looks to her. They share a passionate look, filled with wonder and fear and something in both of them that neither can identify in themselves let alone in one another.

He grabs ahold of what is rightfully his, something he'd felt incomplete without and nods surely to The Mother of Dragons, receiving a pained nod back.

* * *

AN: Did anyone see that coming? I'd tried to subtly sprinkle in mentions of Visenya and her sword through out the story, AND LET ME TELL YA, subtle is not my forte and it was so difficult to play it cool, did it work? Did I succeed? Let me know how you liked the chapter, it's one that was the most difficult to write, (part of why it took so long for me to get out) I rewrote Jon and Danys moments literally a dozen times until I was happy with It, because while I loved their moments in the show, I wished they'd had more small moments to really cement how they fall for each other. Also that last scene was like I said a long time in the making but it was a bitch getting it to make it flow. Anyway, whatever, please review!


	20. The Kingslayer

A *Frustrated* AN: I can't believe I've had to say this I think twice now, for those of you that don't like the sword angle and are trying to school me in the reviews on its history, bruhs this is *FaNfIcTiOn*, I don't know what else to tell you except that that plot point hasn't unfolded yet. If you're interested in seeing it, stick around; if you're not that's cool too, you're under no obligation to like it, but I'm tired of some of you in my reviews treating this story as if it needs to be identical to the source material, nah, I can change what I want and keep what I want.

But FYI to the pseudo Dark Sister experts, I believe three of you said the same thing and you all were incorrect. Dark Sister being taken and then lost beyond the wall is *NOT* confirmed. Likely? Yes. Confirmed? No. But Either way, once again, this is a F-A-N-F-I-C-T-I-O-N, I have complete creative liberty, that's the beauty of this platform.

Also to the Dany haters . . . What are you even doing here? Stop wasting both of our times with your hypocritical Mad Queen nonsense and regurgitated sexist Mary Sue bullshit.

If you pointed out the Dark Sister thing in the reviews and meant well, I feel like maybe one of you did, I'm sorry for this very frustrated AN, but it's such a let down when you write a 6,000+ word chapter and then once again have to see people trying to school you (incorrectly) cause you're trying to exploring different avenues . . . And now I'm just repeating myself again, alright I'm done, here's the next chapter.

I own nothing.

* * *

 **Twenty: The Kingslayer**

Mother of Dragons

Daenerys legs feel like lead, her head like a haze and she could distinctly feel her pulse in her neck as she makes her way down the spiraling, claustrophobic stairs to the Kingslayers section of cells.

During the exploration of the castle it was discovered there is a cell block bad enough to wish for death, and a cell block even lower in the dungeon bad enough to do something about it.

Dany put Lannister in the not so bad one. Bronn was a different story.

She stifled a very unladylike yawn, cursing herself for having kept herself painfully awake all night long, trying to think of another course of action. Anything that could keep both Jon Snow and Jamie Lannister exactly where they are, but came up frustratingly empty.

Short of acting irrationally and just commanding it to be so, there was no other feasible plan that could produce the results this one could, and gods if it didn't infuriate her.

 _Is this all I have in store for me for the rest of my life, however long it should be? Losing everything over and over again? Sending away a man that, unlike all the rest, actually makes me feel something, as well as releasing not only my enemy but that man that was essential in the ruin of my family? Will there ever be a time where the choice isn't impossible? Isn't painful? And gods be damned why does giving up the former hurt worse than the latter?_

Dany physically flinches at her own pitiful thought process.

 _What a child you're acting like._

She straightens her back, her gait becoming more fluid as she comes ever closer to The Kingslayers cell, preparing herself to act dignified at all costs in front of him.

 _Of course you'll have to sacrifice everything, you already know that, have done just that you're entire life, you little fool, stop whining — even if it is to yourself._

As she mentally berates her lapse in willpower, she's reminded of the house with the red door. The only time she's ever felt like she had a real home. That had been taken from her too. To not even mention her son . . .

 _You know loss. This is not loss, this is diplomacy and it's essential._

Jons bearded, scarred face appears in her thoughts then, her mind becoming muddled as she can't differentiate the feelings the house in Bravos and The King in the North invoke in her anymore.

Dany runs out of stairs to walk, her _Kos_ halting to speak to the guards on duty, making sure everything has been quiet with the Kingslayer. Once placated they move out of her line of vision and _he_ appears.

He must have heard them coming because to Daenerys eye he looks to be trying very hard to seem ill at ease. If it weren't for the tension in his shoulders she might have bought it.

He'd bathed since she last saw him, and now, no longer covered in blood and soot, she can see just how handsome he truly is. Even at his age, she'd wager he'd turned every woman's head.

 _Well, before he lost his hand, I'm sure._

"Leave us," Dany commanded softy in Dothraki, giving them the side eye when they hesitated.

Once gone, The Kingslayer spoke, making Dany wish he were mute instead of crippled.

"How _did_ you get those savages to follow a bitch? I've tried to come up with a reason but for the life of me — can't."

Usually when spoken to in such a manner she found herself amused, content with the rationalization that only the weak, scared or stupid would think her less than because of something as mundane as gender.

Hearing it from the man that betrayed his vows to her family and usurped her fathers throne was a bit harder to deal with. But she did.

"Not without difficulty," she said as if unbothered by his disrespect. It was the truth after all, she'll let truth ground her when she feels the fire trying to consume.

"Well, haven't you made something of yourself, Daenerys Targaryen. Mother to Monstrosities, Khaleesi of Dead Waste, Whore to Savages . . . did I miss any other titles? Probably did, you're _so_ famous!" He cheered sarcastically. "They'll write songs about you for sure."

Daenerys couldn't help the twitch to her lips.

"I know how you're feeling, Kingslayer," she stepped closer to his cage, "I'd be embarrassed too if I'd made the grave mistake you did."

"Oh, I've made many mistakes in my life, what is it you're referring to? Getting caught? Ehh, I've been caught before, but," he waves a hand, his real hand, down his grubby body, "I'm still here."

"No," Dany whispers, "not that. The Dothraki."

She steps even closer, her face fully illuminated by a nearby torch.

"Only a fool would face the Dothraki in an open field. Because of your pride thousands died, and the rest defected, all because you thought you and yours impervious to the greatest horsed warriors the world has ever seen. Now you think mockery will save your pride, continue believing so if you'd like. If you can."

"Those overgrown savages would have been _nothing_ without —"

Dany _tsked_ as he tried to lie to her.

" _No_ , you know better than that. You saw them in battle. It's not war to them; it's sport. They don't care if they live or die, as long as they have a horse under them they're happy and they believe they can have that here _and_ in the Nightlands, so it makes no difference. There's very few ways to install that type of fearlessness, that amount of belief in so many. There was nothing you could have done on that field, with the exception of fleeing, that could have _maybe_ changed the outcome"

His face hardened and he no longer cared about keeping up the pretense of a calm, mocking composure.

"I think this is the first time I've truly seen your eyes," he commented, shocking Dany at the subject change. "You have your father eyes."

Now her face was the one to turn to stone.

"I know what my father was," she repeats the words she once spoke to his brother, meaning them now just as she meant them then, "I know The Mad King earned his name and I know he deserved his fate."

Jamie's eyes widened ever so slightly, only fueling Dany.

"But tell me, _Ser_ ," she spat out his title, "Did the children? Did my niece and nephew, Aegon and Rhaenys, deserve to die? And their mother, was she evil as well? Did she deserve to be raped and cut in half by your sisters protector?"

Jamie's eyes fell immediately, but Dany wasn't done.

"Did my pregnant mother and my brother? Did I? the moment I was born?"

"I had no hand in any of that," Jamie says softly, his mocking tone gone completely.

Dany relaxed softly.

"I believe you."

Jamie's eyes shot back to hers, the wrinkles at the corners of them more pronounced.

"But I also believe that you are not stupid, not completely at least. You knew there was no way for them to survive. Their lives were forfeit the moment you murdered your King."

Her thoughts drifted to Meereen; all the casualties, the ones she sentenced directly and the ones that occurred just because of her well meaning interjection.

 _So many were freed and yet so many perished for it, forever shackled to death._ She thought remorsefully.

"You may not have swung the sword yourself, but their deaths are still on your shoulders."

Jamie jumped up quickly, the sound of his chains rattling so jarring it made her bones ache.

"You think you're so fucking innocent, don't you," he growled, "need I remind you of the blood on your hands, Dragonrider? Have you forgotten the sight of the aftermath on that battle field?"

Dany eyed him best she could with his superior.

"If I had died on that field," she absentmindedly clutched her elbow, still in its sling, "no innocence would have been lost." She steps as close as she can, almost touching the rusted iron bars separating prisoner and captor. "If you'd died on that battle field, no innocence would have been lost, either. But there is a difference between us, a very important one. I kill when I have to, when my enemies get in my way. I've never purposely killed an innocent, can you say the same? And don't pretend Highgarden decimated themselves, that battle was just."

Jamie looked ready to start shouting again before his expression shifted.

" _Purposely_?" He smirked, ignoring her accusations and arguements in the most telling way.

Sadness still filled her eyes anyways though.

"Dragons are not easy to tame," she said softly, not elaborating further.

"Ah, yes, blame your Dragons . . . But then again, if they'd never been born, those deaths wouldn't have occurred now would they?" The mocking tone was back and to that Dany had nothing to say.

 _It's true. If I hadn't hatched my children, that child in Meereen would still be alive._

"That's alright though," The Kingslayer cooed, his handsome face transforming into something mean, "when all is said and done they'll be dead along with you and justice will have been delivered."

Dany was glad she was still meeting his eyes, if she hadn't been, she'd have missed the unsure glint in them.

"You don't actually believe that," she spoke emotionlessly, "you know, deep down, you have no way to defeat my dragons. You only faced one and look what happened. Your little arrow swatted away, its contraption destroyed, your army obliterated, your freedom stripped and me one step closer to what is rightfully mine."

Dany narrows her eyes.

"I must say, I find it very curious to see you still by sisters side, after all she's done . . . or would you prefer I call her your lover?"

Jamie sneers down at the silver haired Queen.

"Oh, you're one to talk, little girl, care to go over your family history?"

Dany shakes her head slowly.

"You obviously don't know my family history very well if that's your argument."

"What are you talking about, your family has been fucking and making monsters like you for centuries," he sputtered angrily.

Dany ignored the monster remark.

"But why did we marry one another?"

Jamie rolls his pure blue eyes.

"To keep the bloodlines pure, everyone's heard the same arguments bef—"

"But why? Why did we need our bloodlines pure?"

Before Jamie could say anything — Dany answered her own question.

"When my family lived in Valyria, we weren't the only ones with Dragons — weren't the only bloodline capable of controlling them. _For_ _a_ _time_. The others didn't realize what my kin did, though, they didn't understand the instability of the blood magic that made them and their dragons so special. They looked down upon us as we married brother to sister and aunt to nephew and so on, and as time went on and their blood and the magic that went along with it was diluted and they lost control, we remained strong and true. And when The Doom happened it was only because of that magic that flowed in our veins that we survived intact with our dragons."

"Daenys the Dreamer," The Kingslayer, whispered, knowing the savior of her kin during that dark time.

"Daenys the Dreamer," The Mother of Dragons repeated louder, struck with a surge of pride in her heritage. "And when our last dragon perished and our marriage practices continued it was because we had not forgotten where we came from nor did we give up hope of what we could once again be."

"And here you are," Jamie said snidely.

Daenerys gave him what could only be described as a queenly look. One that came as naturally to her as riding Drogon.

That lulled them both into a silence neither knew how to maneuver safetly.

 _Well there's no such thing as safe in this mans presence. Mine neither, to be fair._

"You must love her very much, to stand by as she commits the atrocities she does." Dany says, knowingly and somewhat understanding, reminded of hers and Drogos once unhealthy dynamic. She'd been treated better than most wives had been by the Dothraki, but even that wasn't enough when she now looked at it with fresh, unclouded eyes.

Jamie growled and jerked away, turning his back on her for the first time.

 _I wonder if his eyes would light up if I told him what is to happen. That he'd be seeing her soon — if Jon is successful. Would he be mocking or soft?_

Dany sees no more use in staying, needing to see Ser Jorah and — _just_ Ser Jorah off on his voyage.

She makes it to the first step when she hears him call out to her.

" _Honestly_ , how did you get the Dothraki to follow a woman?" She turns around, seeing genuine curiosity on his face and in his voice.

She can't help herself from smirking a bit cockily and repeats words said to her long ago.

"The Dothraki follow strength above all."

Daenerys turned and began the long climb up the winding stairwell, trying to figure out, in all of that exhausting bickering . . . had they found some kind of common ground? Was that even possible?


	21. AN

AUTHORS ANNOUNCEMENT (This will be deleted when I've heard from you guys which you'd prefer)

. . . Hey, you guys, long time no see . . . so yea I'm still alive and deeply sorry that I've been M.I.A. you guys deserve way better. To any readers I may have left, thank you for sticking around I do not in any way shape or form deserve you!

I'm writing this AN because I wanted to involve you in the next stage of this story, I want you to have a say in my decision of how I'm going to continue because, as I've been trying to get back in the grove of this story and how to proceed, I see two avenues. I'd already started down one of those avenues thinking it would be the best decision, but have decided my readers definitely deserve a say because even though it's what I'd like to do, doesn't mean it's what I should do.

So as I've said in past ANs and in the summary, I wanted this story to be a deep dive into the characters' minds and then once we reached the point of season 8 I was going to continue on with what I want(ed) to happen / what I predict(ed) will happen. I'd hoped to have the story done by S8, had plenty of time to do so and I failed to do so, and for that once again, I sincerely apologize. I make no excuses because I hate when stories I love are suddenly abandoned, I know how that feels, so yea, I just want to do better, for you guys and myself.

But anyway, that's what I'd planned, plan failed and now we're here, almost to ep.4. Luckily what I have planned for my version of S8 is so far WAY different, so that's good at least. I think it might end how I predict but we'll just have to see.

Side Note: I got A LOT of feelings about this season . . . how about you guys, leave a comment and if you want, we can discuss, just let me know that it's okay for me to PM you. Or you can PM me, cause as I said . . . I GOT A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THIS SEASON LET ME TELL YOU.

ANYWAYS the point of this AN is to go forward with this story after so long I've been toying around with the idea to jump forward a bit and cover as much as I can, and that makes sense to, in one chapter as a flashback. This would mean that a lot of conversations and thoughts that happened North of the Wall won't make an appearance as well as some original thoughts and conversations that I was going to write. This would move us forward quite a bit, not all the way to S8 material, but then what will be its own chapters will only take two-four instead of five-eight-ish.

OR

If you prefer I can continue on as I was and you guys can have most of the content from NOTW as well as some original ideas, that I had for those scenes.

If I were to go with plan A, I promise I'll do my best to cover everything I can, as in-depth as I can, in the flashback. I don't expect everyone to love every idea that runs through my head, and I'm going to write the story, as in the plot, how I want to write it, but if we go that direction, or the other, either way, I want to make sure that I'm writing _well,_ you deserve to have a pleasant reading experience. If I go the flashback route but it doesn't seem well-written PLEASE let me know, and I'll do my best to fix it, I don't want to write it poorly and it feels too jarring. That is the biggest reason I'm asking you guys first instead of just pulling the trigger on it, I really don't want to possibly mess with the flow of the story without consulting you and everyone ends up hating it.

I don't know how long I'm going to keep this up, it will depend on how many responses I get, if a ton of people responds quickly saying the same thing, then I'll know to just proceed in that direction (majority will rule).

So yeah that's pretty much it, let me know what you think, how'd you like me to proceed by leaving a comment or PMing me, we can talk about the future of this story or about the show or whatever you'd like!

Once again thanks for sticking around, I hope you guys have a great day, and can't wait to hear your thoughts!

XOXO


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